Gods and Demons
by TheGodfatherSJP
Summary: Set after the ending of Halo 3. The Master Chief crash lands on an unknown planet and finds he's gone from one war to another. Crossover with a well known TV show but you'll have to read to find out which one . Please read and review.
1. Part I: Planet Fall

Gods and Demons Part I Planet Fall

Lights.

That was all he saw on the surface of the world as he slowly spun towards the globe.

Lights everywhere. Cities? Something else? Either way, it meant only one thing.

Civilization.

"Estimate planetfall in 20 minutes Chief. You might want to buckle up."

The last sentence contained a hint of laughter.

"Sorry, I think I left my seatbelt in my other suit. Got any spares?" He replied.

"Not on me. But in the cargo hold I think there's something that will do. There's a shielded cargo container. Might withstand the impact."

"Might?"

"There's no heat shielding on it, so we can't push it out of the bay and hope to ride it down in the atmosphere. Which means…"

"We do it after we hit atmo, and what, 6 seconds before impact?"

"6.3."

"Show-off. Does the power still work for the doors?"

"Other than twiddling my thumbs, routine maintenance is the only thing I've had to do for the past 4 years."

"How about thrusters?"

"Sorry Chief. I'm not a miracle worker. That's your job."

"Okay. Port cargo hold right? I'll see you over there."

He floated through the ships as though he were born in this place, dodging obstacles with a skill that could not be learned, or be inbred. His suit was designed primarily for combat, but thankfully the designers had anticipated he would find himself in a Zero-g environment. _I'm wearing marvel of engineering, _he thought. The suit helped him compensate for any unexpected rolls, helped him plot his jumps down each corridor, helped him wedge open a door. An onlooker would have thought he had lived his whole life in the corridors of the derelict. It took him just under 10 minutes to reach the cargo hold. Had the ship's gravity generators been active, it would have taken him less than 3.

_But then again, if this ship was intact, I'd be home now, instead of God knows where._

She was already there, waiting for him.

"The container's over there, clamped to a cargo crane."

"I'll go and release it."

"Not yet! We'll need to move it closer to the bay doors. Those are open, thankfully. I'll program the clamp to release when we hit the right altitude, in about 15 minutes."

"I suppose I should stock up for an extended camping trip."

"Not a bad idea."

"Is there an armory nearby? Or some kind of weapons storage crate?"

There was a pause as his companion looked for an answer.

"Yes. In the lower right-hand corner. Mostly small arms. No missile launchers or Gatling guns I'm afraid. There's also a food container in the opposite corner, you should probably pack that as well. No tents, lights, kayaks, or other useful amenities though, and we don't have time to look someplace else." The last was said with a smile.

"Get the container in position. This'll take me a few minutes."

He made 3 trips to the weapons container, taking an assault rifle, a shotgun, 2 pistols, and a sniper rifle. He didn't know how he was going to carry everything at once, not with all the ammo he took as well. The food container was the usual rations, enough for 3 men for 2 weeks. He also took a portable cloaking device from the weapons cache.

He locked everything down inside with cargo straps, and even then he cut it close.

"Hurry John. Planetfall in 2 minutes. And then the ride _really_ gets bumpy. The crane's set."

"Alright. Ready to go for a ride?" He extended the data storage disk to Cortana's console, gently connecting the inner circuitry to her holographic face. She smiled at him, the ghostly image of white teeth lingering as her blue form melted and shifted, turning into a pale blue liquid which now formed the center of the disk. With practiced ease, he slotted the disk into the drive in the base of his helmet.

"Welcome home." He said.

"Thanks, it's good to be back. 1 minute 30 seconds."

He entered the container, and closed the hatch, locking it with a deadbolt. He tied himself to some cargo netting which, hopefully, would hold up on impact.

"Planetfall."

The container started rumbling like a bucking horse, up and down, up and down. The weapons shook, the food shook, he shook.

"Bumpy ride huh?" He said.

"You've had worse. Release in 10…9…8…"

He closed his eyes and waited.

"Release!"

The container lurched, and then he felt that they were in free fall. _Here we go…_

Seconds later, he felt the container hit the ground before he heard the grinding noise. His restraints snapped, and he flew towards the rear end of the container. The red tritanium wall was the last thing he saw before impact.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"John…John…"

She always called him that when he was hurt or alone.

"Wake up John…"

He groaned, felt the beginnings of a headache, and stirred. His chest was sore, probably from the impact.

"No broken ribs you lucky devil. I told you the ride would be bumpy."

"You also said that you had a good substitute for a seatbelt."

"Would you rather we jump before hitting the atmosphere? At least you're in one piece, with weapons and food nearby."

"Someone must have seen the ship enter the atmosphere."

"True. But the container would look like debris falling off. Just like I planned."

"Including my concussion?"

"You DON'T have a concussion!" Cortana chuckled. "I'm not picking up any movement on your suits scanners. Looks like we're in the clear. What do you say to taking a girl on a nice, long walk, get a feel for the place?"

"Yes ma'am."

He gathered up a week's worth of food for himself and put it in a low satchel that was packed into the ration container. He slung the satchel around his right hip, then attached some grenades before grabbing the assault rifle. Then he had another decision to make.

"What do you think Cortana? Sniper rifle or shotgun?"

"Chief, this is an unexplored world, and we have no idea what we'll find on it, if the inhabitants are humanoid, how many, can we communicate…"

"Shotgun it is then."

"Why?"

"Looks more intimidating."

"If you say so." He could feel her smiling, even though she couldn't project an image of herself from her suit. "Set the cloaking device on the container."

"Won't the charge dissipate in a few minutes?"

"That's because you'd be moving around with it. The device uses a lot more energy to hide organic material or objects in motion. But for a stationary metal object, the charge should last for…5 days, maybe a week."

"Maybe a week?"

"I don't know if it's in good working order. We _are_ talking about a Covenant piece of technology on a human ship. At least it's a model that recharges."

"How do you know so much about…"

"High Charity had some useful databanks."

He didn't ask her more, knowing that Cortana's time spent on High Charity was not something she wished to revisit. She had been marooned there, left behind, at her own insistence, and trapped with the malevolent Flood entity called Gravemind for nearly 3 months. For her, it was as close to Hell as an AI could get.

5 minutes later, the cloak was activated, and all he could see was a shallow crater where the container had impacted. He covered the depression with some branches, trying to make the landscape seem more natural. Satisfied with his handiwork, he scanned the surrounding area for a direction to head. The sun was setting.

"Which way?" Cortana asked him.

"North."

He could feel Cortana smile again. It was an old tradition among the SPARTAN-II trainees. North was always the way home.


	2. Part II: Not Alone

Gods and Demons Part II Not Alone

"Cortana?"

"Yes John?"

"Does the star pattern look familiar to you at all?"

"Hmmmm…."

The sound was supposed to simulate human thought. He liked to think that had Cortana been using a holographic display, her image would also have shifted to show her cupping her chin in one hand, the other stretched across her frame in a thinking pose. She would have rolled her eyes up and left. Paused. Pursed her lips. Then answered.

He liked to think of her that way.

_Her_. _She's an it_.

The military mind, the training that had been instilled in him since he was 6, the mind of a combat veteran who hadn't seen downtime in 27 years, would not look at her that way. Refused to. And he'd never be able to shut it off. It kept him alive.

"She" was an AI, a computer program. The sounds and images were subroutines running as she computed an answer, designed to make it easier for humans to relate to constructs. And no matter how hard he tried, part of him would always look at "her" in that respect.

Yet she was also his friend. A computer maybe, but a companion who had saved his life countless times. A part of him, that which was human and not the merciless weapon, really did wish they could just go for a stroll together, get lunch together, do all the things that friends do. Because she was the only person left to him.

_Sometimes life just sucks._

"No patterns match any star charts in my database. I'd say we're still pretty far from home…Huh."

"What?"

"11'o clock high. About 4000 yards out."

He placed his hand to his helmet and activated the zoom function. There, approaching fast, was a small craft, with swept wings on either side, and what appeared to be 2 guns angled forward.

"Fighter?" He asked.

"A distinct possibility. Recommend you take cover."

He crouched behind a tree, but kept the craft in sight as it passed. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't Covenant. He'd never seen anything like it. _Fast, appears agile, wing configuration good for atmospheric or space flight_. His mind ticked off descriptions for future reference. _Odd. Looks like a helmet in front…_

"Cortana, what do you make of that, well, head? Doesn't look like there's a cockpit."

"Yes, that is unusual. Especially if that is a fighter. There would be very limited visibility around the sides."

The craft continued moving past, flying straight toward the location of their crash site.

"It's heading for the container."

"Yes, Chief. It shouldn't see anything with the cloak though."

"So much for us looking like falling debris. Think we should drop in on his home? Get a look at what kind of people live on this rock?"

"So it's a he now? What's wrong with She?"

"Cortana…"

"It's not like I can stop you, you know. Besides, I'd like to see for myself what kinds of life forms are present. It's the scientist in me." There was a brief pause. "And Chief, proceed with some caution. I've been getting progressively stronger radiation levels as we travel north."

"Radiation? From what?"

"I don't know. It _does_ match the pattern for fallout from a nuclear explosion."

"Nuclear explosion? From what, a reactor? The UNSC hasn't used nuclear technology in 200 years. Too inefficient…" His voiced trailed off.

"Which means we may be technically superior to whatever's on this planet. All the more reason to proceed with caution."

"Maybe." The word was particularly gruff.

"Chief? What…"

"Don't worry about it."

He continued in silence. The terrain was gradually less rugged as he moved further north. He set a good pace, his suit allowing him to jog the distance, covering about 1 mile every 20 minutes. Considering he was in what qualified as forested hills, it was very good time.

_Epsilon Eridani. Earth. Home. Probably never see it again._

The realization had hit him when he mentioned the UNSC to Cortana. He was lost God know where on an alien planet. _But there's no need for her to hear this. She's probably done 3 calculations of the odds already._

He picked a trail through the forest as he headed in the direction the craft had appeared from. An hour later the vehicle appeared again, once more flying past without seeing him. He watched it disappear over a large hill before he emerged from his hiding place.

"Maybe we can get a view of our visitor's home from that hill."

"Maybe, Chief. Radiological readings are still getting stronger."

It took him another hour to reach the top. Per his training, he crouched as he approached the crest, trying to keep his large frame from forming a silhouette against the night sky. Forest or no, it was a little hard to miss a half ton behemoth in green armor.

He wasn't quite prepared for the sight the greeted him.

It had been a city. Once. Several neighborhoods were still intact, but over half the city was demolished, as though a giant hand had come down from the skies and pushed skyscraper after skyscraper over in a tidal wave of concrete and steel. Burnt open areas denuded of even the smallest shrub told him where parks had been. A large paved area with ruins on its periphery looked like it was a sort of forum or civics area.

It may have been a great metropolis once. The pinnacle of civilization of this planet. And now it was nothing. And he didn't need Cortana to tell him what had caused it. But she said it anyway.

"A nuclear bomb. Several. This world has seen nuclear war." There was no shock in her voice. It was a statement of fact, like she was reading a court transcript.

He didn't add anything, didn't have to really. Both he and Cortana had seen firsthand the effects of Covenant glassing, as the white-hot plasma fire scorched everything on a planet to cinders from orbit. Here at least, you could see a culture had once thrived on this world. The Covenant had left nothing.

But there were also some survivors apparently. On the western edge of the city, in what appeared to be a spaceport he could see many versions of the craft that had flown over him earlier in the night. Again, he activated his helmet zoom, and saw….

…figures. Apparently humanoid.

"Want a closer look Cortana? Maybe check out the local bar?"

"Don't you? But you'll have to do the ordering." Again, he could feel her smile.

"ETA for sunrise?"

"If the day's similar to Earth normal, I'd say approximately 4 hours. If you do it quietly, we can get a nice view of the compound and be gone before the sun rises."


	3. Part III: Encounters

Gods and Demons Part III Encounters

Humanoid, he had thought. For some of things he was seeing, that description still applied.

For the others…

Robot was the operative term. How sentient, he couldn't be sure. They moved in groups, usually 3 to 7, but occasionally singly. Again, his mind ticked off characteristics for the mental dossier he kept of creatures he encountered. _Tall, about 7.5 feet high, 1 large red eye traversing back in forth, 2 hands …_

He saw 2 of them lift a steel girder.

_Greater than human norm strength_.

Whatever these robots were, they weren't built for peaceful labor. They moved and acted as units, maintaining patrols. The hands, he noticed after careful inspection, were elongated, _probably double as claws_, he thought. They were also taking orders. That made them military drones.

And who they were taking directions from also was puzzling. These men and women, and they were men and women, seemed human by all appearances. He'd seen a blonde woman and an Asian woman, a medium build man with brown hair and nondescript features, and another male with blonde hair and strong jaw. They all seemed fairly normal in and of themselves. The blonde woman was particularly attractive, even beautiful at this distance.

Except there was more than one. Of each kind of human he saw. First he'd seen 2 blonde women talking together, and upon closer inspection he'd concluded he was looking at twins, identical twins. Then a 3rd blonde had appeared, followed by 2 Asians.

After an hour he'd noted several pairings of each type of human he saw. They all wore different clothing, but these humans were carbon copies of each other.

"How many blondes does that make Cortana?" he said, spotting another pair.

"Eight, along with 5 Asians, 3 brown haired men, and 2 blonde men. Along with at least 73 robotic models, and 14 of the aircraft we've seen. This is a sizable military base."

He continued looking around what appeared to be a hanger. "So we've got over half a company of military robots, a full squadron of military craft, all taking orders from about 20 humans?"

"If they are human."

"Hmmm?"

"Radiation levels are high here Chief. Not strong enough to kill quickly, but ample to induce radiation poisoning. None of these people seem to be showing any symptoms."

"They could have medication against radiation."

"Even so, we'd at least expect some kind of biohazards suits. Or some form of protection. Neither of us have noted any kind of fallout bunker have we?"

He didn't reply, just grunted. He saw a small flash of brown protruding from the hanger, and zoomed in again.

"Any idea what that is?" He asked.

"Not enough visual data to make a conclusion. Can you give me a better look inside?"

"If I change position to the south, and get closer."

She paused, weighing the risks.

"It's your call."

_My call. Translation: it's damn dangerous to get closer, but the intel might be worth it. And we might need to make contact if these are this rock's smartest inhabitants. My call. Pros and cons are equal. So what do you do?_

_You go with your gut. _

"I'll get a better view. Quietly."

He stayed within the woods lining the perimeter of the base, slowly making his way to the western edge. From there, he could see inside the doors of the hangar, and hopefully get a complete view of the hangar interior. He maintained a constant crouch, shuffling slowly along. A lesser man would have stopped, rested, because his knees would have buckled from the strain. But the Chief was not a normal man, not after his "training."

He'd been kidnapped from his home at age 6, raised since then to be the ultimate soldier. At 14 he and the rest of the candidates in his program had undergone substantial genetic and cybernetic alterations. He was among the half who survived. He was proficient with every weapon wielded by Human or Covenant forces. And his MJOLNIR armor was another boon, capable of being worn only by himself and the other members of the SPARTAN-II program like him. It was shielded, nearly invulnerable, and gifted him with superhuman strength, speed, reflexes, sight.

It also made him weigh close to a thousand pounds. Something he remembered quickly after a large branch underfoot snapped.

One noise in the forest may have gone unnoticed. But the crack startled a pair of birds, who somehow had survived in the radiation. They flew up and away, out of the tree they had been standing upon.

He may as well have announced his presence with a thunderbolt. _So much for gut feelings._

2 of the blonde women on the base landing strip looked directly at his position, then exchanged a glance with each other in seemingly wordless communication. 1 then turned to a group of 5 robots, and spoke. He didn't need to hear the words to know what the command was. The 5 robots were heading directly for him.

"Nothing left for it Chief. You need to evac, fast."

"South?"

"Recommend you evade Northwest."

"But that's towards the city-"

"No time Chief! Move!"

The robots were bounding quickly over the terrain. _Superior speed and mobility for a robotic design_, he thought, adding one more characteristic to his dossier. They would be on him in half a minute at most. He moved. He evaded. He headed where Cortana told him too, Northwest, towards the city ruins. He didn't bother to crouch anymore, running through the woods at a full tilt. He weaved between the trees and bushes, the terrain slowly sloping downhill as he sprinted. Hopefully, he had left his position and would be out of sight of his pursuers.

The crash behind him said otherwise. He turned his head for a second, and saw 1 of the 5 robots following his trail. He had been spotted. The others would be close behind. And the trees were thinning rapidly as he approached the ruins.

"Cortana, they've…"

"I know Chief. Give me a moment."

"No time. The forest thins out closer to the city." He paused, standing beside a large tree, and looked through a clearing at the city beyond. It was at least 50 meters long, and he would have to cross it before he could reach the relative safety of the ruined buildings.

"They might not be hostile, you could try..."

The ground around him erupted in small explosions of dirt, and the air cracked as bullets sped by him. He heard the rattling chatter of machineguns as the robots fired. He quickly hid behind the tree and readied his assault rifle.

"You were saying?"

"Do what you do best Chief."

He peered over the left side of the trunk and saw 2 robots running rapidly toward him. Their hands were balled into fists, and long barrels were now protruding from their forearms. These flashed as bullets struck the area around him. Had the robots been standing still, they would have been much more accurate. Their first burst would have hit him. But now, they were easy targets.

He swung around the trunk in a crouch, leveling his sights on the lead robot, and pulled the trigger. A short burp erupted from the rifle and 4 rounds struck the machine dead center. The torso crumpled like tin foil and the robot was thrown backward. In the blink of an eye, the chief shifted to the second robot and fired another burst, dropping it in a smoking heap. He waited a couple of seconds for either machine to move, then ducked back behind the tree.

He'd established himself as a threat, nothing more. A second later the air again cracked as bullets whizzed by his head, striking the tree and the ground nearby. This time the fire was much more accurate, and when he leaned over the right side of the trunk, he saw flashes from a cluster of bushes uphill. A round clipped his helmet, knocking him back slightly and causing the shielding surrounding his suit to flare yellow. He ducked back out of sight.

"That was a direct hit Chief."

"Yeah. They're fast learners."

"But you're shield gauge is still at 90. Their weapons aren't as effective as the Covenant's. That opens up our options a bit."

"Yeah."

He came around the right side of the trunk, standing upright, and fired into the bushes where the robots were hiding. The robots returned the favor. He was hit several times but continued to pump round after round into the shrubbery, trying to suppress the enemy, until the return fire slackened. His rifle clicked on an empty chamber.

Looking to his right, he spotted a fallen log which could give him enfilading fire upon the robots' position. There was a tree in between, he could hide behind it for cover temporarily. In a green flash, he bolted from his hiding spot, sprinting towards the tree and reloading his rifle on the run. The robots opened up again, clipping him in the left shoulder and leg, almost causing him to stumble. He dove behind the second tree, temporarily safe.

His shield gauge read 25. Nearly 10 hits, and the power still hadn't been drained. He crouched, waiting for his shields to recharge. But the robots weren't foolish enough to let him flank them. He peered out from behind the trunk and saw one machine running full tilt towards a small boulder which enfiladed his _own_ hiding spot. He brought his weapon up and squeezed the trigger, tracking the robot as it sprinted. The first 2 rounds missed, but the 3rd clipped the machine in the foreleg, causing it to stumble to the ground. He finished it off with an additional 2 bursts.

_3 down, 2 to go._ When his shield recharged to full, he sprinted towards the fallen log. Again the robots fired upon him, again they hit him, again neither he nor his shield faltered. He dove behind the log, readied his rifle, then stood, lining up the first machine he saw in his sights. 7 rounds reduced it to perforated scrap metal.

It turned out to be the only machine he needed to fire upon. The 5th robot had been downed earlier when he emptied the rest of his first clip into the cluster of bushes. The suppressing fire hadn't actually worked; he'd gotten lucky and downed one of the robots he couldn't even see. _Add fearless to the list_, he thought.

"That was a little easy" he said aloud.

"Maybe it's because they're sending friends" Cortana replied.

To punctuate her words, one of the fighters he'd seen earlier buzzed the treetops overhead. He ducked, but heard no guns firing. But where there would be a fighter, there would be more ground troops. He heard a metallic clanking some distance to the south, which could only be more machines.

"You need to get to into the city, Chief. It's almost light out." The first rays of dawn were appearing on the horizon.

He grunted again, and headed at a dead run out of the tree line. He sprinted across the open field and onto a city street before ducking into what looked like the remains of a small office building. He paused, listening for the fighter again. Nothing. There was a staircase several meters down a hallway inside. He used it to ascend to a second floor, and from there he could look out over the field he had crossed through a window.

He waited. Waited for the fighter to return. Waited for more robots to appear. Waited for some sign, any sign, of additional pursuit. Waited.

And there was nothing. At least, nothing he could see.

Finally a lone robot appeared on the edge of the clearing. He stared, almost holding his breath, hoping against hope he could get lucky, that the robot wouldn't follow his path.

And he waited.

And, finally it seemed, the robot turned and headed back into the forest.

"Looks like we're safe for the moment Chief. Recommend you proceed further into the ruins before it gets lighter. Then it'll be tougher to move around."

He returned to street level. The road he was on traveled Northwest into the ruins, and he followed it for 10 minutes. The place was deserted. Not even rats moved amongst the rubble. His battle-honed senses scanned the buildings, the windows, the doors. Nothing. He maintained his usual jogging pace, until he came to a street corner. There was a sign there.

It was in English.

"Impossible!" he heard Cortana exclaim. But there, it plain letters, was a sign with an arrow pointing East, toward the heart of the city, emblazoned with the words "Delphi Museum of The Colonies."

"The Colonies?" he wondered aloud. "Cortana, how would an alien civilization of robots know English? And if this is a colony…"

"Why would I have no knowledge of it in my databanks? This can't be a UNSC colony Chief, for any number of reasons. And I can't even begin to speculate how English could be the primary language of a world we haven't so much as catalogued. Still, I could arrive at an answer with more information. It's possible that…"

"You want me to check out the museum."

Again he felt her smile. "At the very least it'll allow us to learn more about the world we've crashed on."

"It's daylight now, Cortana. I'll have to stay off the streets, moving from building to building. We don't know if those aircraft or robots will show up again. I can't take the risk of being spotted. God knows how many of them there are."

"Take your time, John. You're caring for two of us here, you know."

It would have been a half-hour walk along the street. Maybe he would have passed bustling shops. A mall. There would have been a nice park, where children played, halfway to his destination. People would have lined the walkways, going about their daily lives. He could picture the mecca in his mind as he traveled. A busy civilization. A prosperous one.

But the city was lifeless. A ghost town. Nothing moved. Dust floated in clouds as it was disturbed by the winds. Everything was dead. But what was particularly odd was the absolute lack of the most recognizable sign of war.

Dead bodies. There were none to be found, anywhere. Traversing through the buildings took a great deal of time, but fortunately he had his helmet compass to keep himself oriented in the right direction. No dead were found within any of the structures he entered. As often as not he had to make his own entrances and exits.

Mostly he moved in silence. He'd never been one for small talk. But he was curious about 1 thing.

"Why did you direct me toward this city Cortana?"

"Heading South meant running uphill, through forested terrain, against the horizon. You would have been in view of a sizeable military base. The probability of increased enemy commitment was likely if you were spotted by anyone else. I also calculated that it would be easier for you to evade in an urban environment vs. a forested one…"

"And away from our supplies, which we might need, over unfamiliar ground."

"You've still got 6 days of rations, unless you're planning an impromptu feast."

He said nothing for a few minutes, busying himself with wedging open a window.

"It was the right call."

"When have I ever steered you wrong?"

Finally, after 3 hours, he arrived at this Delphi Museum. It was a large structure, and from the look of the ruins had once between beautiful. What was clearly the front entrance was partly wrecked, and what appeared to be an arch had fallen down upon the entry steps.

"Care to open the door for a lady?" Cortana quipped.

"Yes ma'am" he replied with a small smile. But as he mounted the first steps, several shots rang out. He quickly readied his shotgun.

"Looks like someone's inside, Chief."

He decided to enter by another route. Whoever was inside was probably watching the front, especially if it was a patrol of robots. But if the robots were there, then they were fighting someone, and he needed to see whom. He managed to clamber up to a second story ledge with the aid of a fallen pillar, and entered through a window on the same side as the entrance.

Cautiously he proceeded down a corridor to where he guessed the museum entrance led to. He could hear signs of a struggle ahead. Grunts, and a woman yelling in pain could be heard. Then a wild cry, followed by a vague thud of something impacting a hard surface.

He rounded a corner and heard a man cry "Starbuck?" further down another long hallway. As he approached an aperture at its end, another shot went off. He crouched, and peered out into a large room. The middle of the floor he was on had caved in, and he could see portions of the 2 levels below him. At the bottom, a large man was grasping a bloodied blonde woman, both different from the people he had seen earlier. One of the blonde women he had seen at the robot base lay dead at their feet. The bloodied woman was grasping a pistol in her right hand and had evidently fired the last shot he was heard.

"You can't!" The man pleaded. "She's pregnant!"

The bleeding woman screamed in anguish, pain, and horror, and collapsed in the man's arms.


	4. Part IV: A Merry Little Band

Gods and Demons Part IV A Merry Little Band

The woman, who the other man called Starbuck, was staring at the corpse of the blonde he'd seen at the airport. Besides the man stood a third figure, another woman the Chief had also seen earlier, the Asian. Apparently her name was Sharon.

"Her consciousness is being downloaded into another body right now. And when she wakes up, she'll tell them exactly where we are." Sharon looked up as she finished.

The man spoke up. "She's right, we can't stay here."

The 3rd looked irritated when she replied. "She's right huh? Sharon the _Cylon_ is right?"

"Cylon?" Cortana piped up in the Chief's ear. "Is that a nation on this world? A species perhaps? Similar to these humanoids?"

"Shhhhh…" the Chief gently hushed.

"Let's all just listen to Sharon the Cylon, do whatever she says, 'cuz _that's_ a good idea?" Starbuck was glaring at the man now.

"Hey, Kara, she helped me get this far." The man replied.

"Okay I get it. I _get it_, Helo. You and I go way back so I get it. Alright I remember how you felt about her but that is _not_ the real Sharon that is some cheap, knock-off _copy._

"Sharon" chose this point to interrupt. "I'm not a copy. I'm _Sharon_. I remember the first day I met you Starbuck, you were puking your guts out in the head because you'd eaten bad oysters on the – "

Starbuck never let Sharon finish her sentence. She drew a sidearm, what looked like a pistol with a large barrel to the Chief's eyes, and leveled it at Sharon's forehead. "DON'T do that!"

"Helo" stepped in between the two.

"I don't like it" Starbuck continued "and I don't like _you_."

_She's got a temper,_ thought the Chief. "So the best thing you can do is keep your damn mouth shut." Starbuck growled.

"Hey, Starbuck, put it _down_ for Gods' sakes." _Gods?_

Starbuck's eyes widened. "What do you _want_ from me Helo?! She's a Cylon!"

Sharon was backing away as Helo stood his ground. Starbuck went on.

"You've been had! _We've _been had! So what, I'm just supposed to be nice to her? Because she says she's pregnant?" A small laugh escaped from her lips, and she cocked her firearm. "Get out of the way."

Helo shook his head. "No."

"Karl do _not_ think that I will not sh-"

Helo made a dive for Starbuck's wrist and grabbed hold of her forearm. The weapon went off, shattering a glass pane above and behind Sharon's head. The Cylon, as Starbuck called her, ducked out of the Chief's vantage point. Helo gripped Starbuck in a bear hug and yelled into her ear.

"I'm NOT gonna let you kill her! Okay, she's carrying _my child_."

Starbuck rolled her eyes. "My GODS men are so painfully stupid! How do you know that?!" She glowered up at Helo.

"I know, alright? She is _not_ lying."

"They lie about _everything_, Helo. Their entire existence is a lie. They're not _human_ Helo they're machines."

"HUMAN?!" Cortana thundered in the Chief's ear. "That's beyond absurd! How could these be humans?"

"Calm down," the Chief whispered "you're missing the rest of this. Sharon, probably those others we saw as well, are considered machines by these two. Does that make the robots part of this 'Cylon' group as well?"

"More than likely."

The conversation below them continued. Starbuck was pleading with her friend. "You _can't _have a baby with a _machine_!"

"Judging by the look on his face it doesn't make much sense to him either," the Chief murmured "or me."

"There goes our family planning." Cortana quipped.

"I don't know what to tell you" Helo replied. "Okay? But I _believe_ her. It-it- it's hard to describe, we've been together a _long_ time. I mean- I mean I know what she is, but she is _not_ like the others." Now it was Helo's turn to plead. "She _is not_."

"Looks like he's starting to convince her." Cortana observed.

The Chief's head snapped up as he heard a sound of something powering up. Whatever it was, Starbuck recognized it, and ran out of the back of the room repeating "No" as she sprinted. Helo followed.

"Guess I oughta follow them." The Chief said after a moment.

"I would hope so! We need to determine how human colonists landed on this planet in the first place! We're almost certainly not in UNSC space! This is an incredible find! Another human civilization located unknown light years away from Earth…" Cortana droned on as the Chief tracked Starbuck and Helo's path, heading towards the noise he was hearing.

He found himself at a second story window, looking at one of the flying craft he'd seen at the Cylon base. It was rapidly moving away from their location. Starbuck was pointing her sidearm at the craft, but then sighed in frustration and lowered her gun. "Bitch took my ride." She glared at Helo.

They both stood a few seconds outside, Starbuck staring in impotent frustration, Helo staring in shock at what appeared to be a betrayal of trust. The blonde woman then turned and headed back into the museum, Helo following. The Chief, guessing where they were heading, returned to his vantage point in the open foyer.

"You might want to talk to them Chief." Cortana piped up.

"Tell me something I don't know. But randomly yelling 'Hey' may get me a bullet to my forehead."

Starbuck was bending over painfully, picking up an object near the dead blonde. The Chief shifted position to get a better angle-

-and promptly kicked over a loose stone. It fell to the lower floor with a _clack_. Both Helo and Starbuck spun around at the noise, drawing their weapons and aiming them at his direction.

"Chief, I think 'Hey' would have worked better." Cortana remarked.

"What the frack was that?" Helo murmured. The Chief had ducked back into the shadows, so the two below him couldn't see him exactly. But both guns were trained on his hiding spot.

"More toasters maybe? Your _girlfriend_ could have warned someone already." Starbuck growled back.

The Chief finally spoke up. "Lower your weapons. I mean you no harm."

The eyes of both figures below widened. They weren't expecting that.

:"Come out where I can see you." Starbuck commanded.

"In a bit. _After _you lower your guns."

"No deal."

"Look lady, if I'd wanted to kill you, I'd have done it already."

"You've been watching us?"

"Since he, name's Helo right?, said 'you can't she's pregnant."

Starbuck was silent. Both of the figures below were motionless, their weapons still pointed at the shadows where the Chief was hiding.

"Suggestions, Cortana?" he murmured just loud enough so only the AI could hear.

"Try 5 questions."

The Chief raised his voice and spoke to Starbuck. "Okay, let's try 5 questions."

"What?" the woman responded irritably.

"You ask me 5 questions. I answer. Then I ask you 5 questions. You answer. Then you lower your guns and I'll come out."

Starbuck's weapon lowered a fraction. "Fine. Who are you?"

_That's a start_. 'Name's John."

"What are you?"

"A soldier."

The woman didn't like the terseness of the answer. "What are you doing here?"

"Short answer is: I'm lost. I don't know where _here_ is."

"If you're human, why didn't you attack the Cylon?"

"Didn't know she was a Cylon. She looked human enough to me."

Starbuck glowered a bit at that answer. "Have you been following Helo and Sharon?"

"No. My turn. Like I said, I'm lost, very lost, so these questions are going to be strange to you. First one. What planet am I on?"

Both the figures below looked at the shadows in puzzlement. It was Helo who answered first. "You're on Caprica."

"Definitely not listed in the UNSC database Chief. At least not by that name." Cortana chimed in.

"What are your names?" the Chief asked the two people below.

"I'm Lt. Kara Thrace, this is Lt. Karl Agathon, Colonial Fleet" the woman replied.

"Why are you calling each other Starbuck and Helo then?"

"They're call-signs. We're both pilots." The pair looked even more puzzled.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Starbuck paused. Helo opened his mouth, but Starbuck placed a hand on his arm, a gesture which silenced the man. "That's classified" Starbuck said.

The Chief grinned beneath his helmet. _Okay, so she doesn't trust me at all. Smart. Now it's time to throw her for a loop._

"Final question. And I'll give you a few minutes to think it over. What's a Cylon?"

Both the pilots below blinked. Stared. Blinked again. Helo's mouth fell open in shock, closed, then fell open again. While Helo was doing his best impression of a freshly landed fish, Starbuck lowered her weapon and gazed at the shadows incredulously.

"What?" the two said in unison.

"You heard me."

"Are you fracking kidding me? _Everyone _knows what Cylon's are!" Starbuck was yelling. Helo also lowered his weapon, but was still gaping.

"Indulge me."

"Fine." Starbuck replied through gritted teeth. "Short answer. The Cylons are robots created by man. They rebelled. They evolved. They look and feel _human_." The last was said glaring at Helo. "There are many copies. And they have a plan. Which includes launching a surprise attack on our homes, wiping out most of our people, and hunting the remaining 50,000 of us across space."

"They killed everyone on the planet?" The tone was inquiring, nothing more. The Chief had seen too much death for years fighting the Covenant. 400 destroyed worlds tends to dull the senses to murder.

"And on the other 11 colonies." Starbuck paused. "That was 6 questions. Come out. _Now_."

"Fine. But there's a reason I asked those questions." As he spoke, the Chief stepped into the light. "You see, I'm not from around here."

"Caprica?" Helo squeaked. Both of the pilots were staring wide-eyed at the green armored behemoth standing above them.

Starbuck's mouth was open. She quickly regained her composure. "So… you're from another colony? A moon perhaps?"

"No. I'm not from any of your colonies."

Starbuck's eyes widened and her mouth opened again in shock.

"You're… an alien?" Helo squeaked again.

"Sort of. I'm human, but I'm not from these colonies."

"But how do you…."

"Trouble Chief!" Cortana suddenly piped in. "I'm getting movement on your scanners 70 meters west. 10, make that 15 signals closing on this position."

The Chief held up his hand, interrupting Helo. "We can't stay here. Something's approaching this museum from the west, and I'm betting it's your Cylon friends."

"How the frack do you know that?" Starbuck growled, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Helmet motion sensors." The Chief tapped the side of his head with his off-hand for emphasis. "There's a way out behind me, down this corridor. Come on." So saying, he knelt at the side of the ledge and extended his left hand to Starbuck.

She hesitated for a few moments. The Chief didn't blame her. _For all she knows, I'm some new form of Cylon she's never seen before_.

The hesitation lasted only a few seconds. Some ways away, a clanking sound could be heard. Judging by Helo's reaction, he'd heard that noise before. His eyes widened in fear, and wordlessly he gripped Starbuck by the shoulder and nodded his head. Slowly, Starbuck reached her right hand up to the Chief. John grabbed hold and pulled, with Helo giving a boost behind. Starbuck was on the ledge in an instant, and had barely a second to be surprised at how easily the Chief had lifted her before Helo was standing upon the ledge as well.

"We have to go. Those are Centurions." Helo said breathlessly, also amazed at the Chief's strength.

"Let me guess, robots, about a foot taller than me, with a red eye pulsating back and forth?"

"You've run into them before?"

"Yeah, and they weren't very friendly. This way."

The Chief lead them down the path he had traversed when entering the museum. They came to the window he had used for entry, and he helped both pilots through the aperture, following last. They climbed back down to street level and Starbuck lead the 3 of them east, away from the clanking Centurions. They ran along the street, the marching sound fading rapidly behind them. Finally Starbuck directed them into a side alley, where they paused. The pilots leaned against a wall to catch their breaths, Starbuck's was particularly ragged. The Chief watched the street for any signs of pursuit.

"No sign of movement Chief. I think we're in the clear for now." Cortana chimed in his ear.

The Chief turned to his companions. "I think we're safe for the moment. Know any place to rest up?"


	5. Part V: So What's Your Story?

**Gods and Demons Part 5: So What's Your Story?**

A few hours had passed since the events at the museum. The Chief guessed it was around noon. The 3 of them were walking along another city street in Delphi, which was the name of these ruins according to the 2 pilots. John walked in front, the other two behind sticking close together. Both were still fearful of their new friend.

_Hell if I was in their position, I'd be doing the same thing. Faceless visor, green armored suit, you've already shown you've got enhanced strength. They don't know what to make of you_.

He was used to it. SPARTAN-II soldiers always induced a mix of fear and awe in other humans. It wasn't just the size, or the appearance. The Chief was a deadly force, a one man army, and that impression surrounded him like an aura. The two Colonials, as they called themselves, hadn't seen him in action, but they sensed how dangerous he was nonetheless.

"We should probably head out of the city, try to scout one of the outlying airbases. See if we can find a Raptor." Helo said.

"Raptor?" The Chief asked, turning his head to look at the two.

"It's a recon-slash-transport craft." Starbuck paused, looking at the city streets. "It's not exactly what I expected, thought I'd be stepping over decaying corpses in the streets."

"Yeah, we saw a few bodies here and there." Helo replied. "Not much though. Sharon said the---" Helo paused here. The Chief didn't need to look back to see Starbuck glaring at her companion, he could feel the anger coming off the woman in a red-hot wave at the mention of that name.

"_Cylon_ Sharon" Helo said, pausing again before he continued, "said they had troops picking up the bodies, transporting them to mass incinerators."

They were passing by a large opening with a metal gate blocking entry.

"You're girlfriend's from a _lovely _family. Good people, great values." Starbuck returned.

Helo stopped and turned. "_Enough_, alright?" The frustration was audible in his voice. "Okay I was fooled by her, she fooled me, you happy now?" The Chief turned around and watched the other two.

"It's not about making me happy." There was no malice Starbuck's voice.

"Well what's it about, what do you _want_ here?! You want me to say I'm a fracking idiot? Okay, I'm a fracking idiot!"

"That make you feel better?" Starbuck said with a small smile looking through the gate.

Helo shook his head. "I don't care anymore. I've been here for _months_, by myself, on the run, _one _step ahead of the Cylons." Starbuck turned and glared at Helo at this remark, her mouth twisted half-way between a grimace and a sneer.

"_With_ the Cylons, I guess, actually." Helo corrected. The two stood silently for a few moments, Agathon leaning against the metal grate.

"She seemed _so_…_real_." Helo said at length, his voice breaking somewhat as he spoke.

"He's in love with her, Sharon." Cortana spoke again in the Chief's ear.

"Like Sharon, you know?" Helo continued, shaking his head. "Same grin, same laugh, all the little things that…" His voice trailed off miserably. Starbuck approached her friend, knowing he was in pain, yet still too angry at him to offer comfort. "I fell in love with a _machine_." Helo spoke as though he couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. "It's stupid so just… call me an idiot and let's be done with it."

Starbuck pursed her lips and nodded. "You're an idiot. Alright, you're an _idiot_. But the Cylons have a way of making all of us look like idiots."

"Quick question: isn't Sharon the Cylon I saw back at the museum?" The Chief interjected.

"Yes…No…Gods I don't know anymore." Helo responded.

"I saw 5 other woman that looked exactly like her at a Cylon base southwest of the city. Not to mention multiple twins of a blonde woman, a blonde man, and a brown-haired man. I take it these are Cylons as well?"

Thrace nodded, still looking at Agathon. "We think there are many copies of each person." Starbuck explained, turning a cool glance toward the Chief.

"So why are you calling this one Sharon? And how did you know she was a Cylon?"

"I saw another copy of her at the Delphi spaceport. That's the base you're talking about probably." Helo replied, then sighed, considering something. "And there's probably another one serving as a Lieutentant in our fleet, her name really is Sharon."

"Probably? Karl, get it through your damn head. Sharon _is a fracking Cylon!_" Starbuck added. "I just got here, and I left Boomer, that's Sharon's callsign, back with the fleet. The moment I saw that other toaster with Helo I knew what she was."

"Just got here myself." The Chief said. "So these human-looking Cylons, are they some kind of infiltration unit?"

Starbuck frowned in thought for a few moments, then nodded her head.

The Chief looked up at the sky. "It's probably not a good idea to move around on the streets during daylight. You've told me to head down this alley. You got a place where we could hole up?"

"Permanently? Not really." Thrace walked past the closed gate to another, this one clearly a door. She opened it with a metallic squeak.

"Kara, what are you doing?" Helo asked.

"Making a pit stop. I got something I gotta pick up."

"Hey, we gotta keep going." Helo said, gesturing down the street.

"I got a place here, Helo." She led the three of them down a flight of steps.

"Home away from home?" John asked.

"Sort of."

"Well, as long as it gets us off the streets. I've got a small medical kit on me, I can use it to clean up that bloody mess you call your face."

Starbuck just nodded her head and continued walking.

A short time later they were all standing in front of the door to a small apartment. The two pilots were pointing their guns at the door lock. "Let's do it." Helo said.

They both fired, blowing the doorknob into pieces. The Chief didn't like the noise they made, but Cortana had told him there weren't any signals nearby, so he guessed they were safe.

"Never have your house keys when you need them." Starbuck said. She kicked open the door and they entered.

A hallway led to a set of stairs which in turn led down to a small apartment. The interior was a mess. Starbuck, by all appearances, was an amateur painter in her spare time. _Emphasis on the word amateur. _John turned his gaze to a painting on a canvas, one of several in what appeared to be the Caprican equivalent of a living room. _Last time I saw something that ugly was the insides of a Brute blown open._

"These yours'? You paint these Kara?" Helo asked, a little astonished. Apparently he hadn't known Starbuck was an artist as well as a flyer.

Starbuck was bent over a chair, removing items thrown on top of the furniture. "Yeah" was all she said. Helo busied himself looking at other canvases on the floor while Thrace continued the impossible task of cleaning up. Agathon then walked into a small kitchen.

Starbuck activated a device on a stand next to the chair, which began to play a melody involving what sounded like a piano, then sat down heavily in what looked like a loveseat opposite. "Let's get you cleaned up a little." The Chief said, and knelt down beside her, cracking open his first-aid kit. The pilot looked at John for a long moment, then nodded her head and leaned back against the chair, closing her eyes. He unrolled a bandage and spread some alcohol from a small bottle onto the cloth, then used it to wipe away some of the blood smears on the pilot's face.

Thrace winced as the cloth moved over a still open cut. "What's on that thing?"

"Alcohol. It's a disinfectant."

"I know what alcohol is." Starbuck grunted. The Chief continued to work, wiping up most of the blood on the wounded pilot's face. He moved next to her left hand which was heavily bruised around the knuckles. He wrapped another bandage around the hand as padding.

"Can't say I've made you presentable for a party, but at least your face doesn't look like it's gone through a meat grinder anymore."

Thrace pursed her lips. "Thanks."

Helo returned to the living room. He had a small package in his right hand. "How the hell did you get power?" He asked the other pilot.

"Batteries. Kept turning off the power. Something about not paying the bill." Thrace shifted, removing her shirt, apparently part of her uniform.

"That is _definitely_ not you." Helo said, pointing at the music player and smiling.

Starbuck sighed. "It's my Dad."

"Well we got one package of noodles. You don't believe in groceries?"

Starbuck opened her eyes and cast a small glare at her friend. She shifted again, putting on a faded brown jacket stained with several different paint splotches.

"Actually I've got rations on me. In this pouch. Enough for 6 days for myself. Probably last 2 for all of us." John opened the satchel at his hip as he spoke, and threw a ration to Helo. "It's safe for you to eat I think. Got dried fruit and meat, a water ration with a flavor powder mix, and a starch. We call it mashed potatoes."

Starbuck was fiddling around with a box on a table in front of her. She opened it with a small smile, taking out what looked like cigars to the Chief's eye. "You know, I never really liked this place anyway?" She said aloud, holding the cigar in her left hand and searching around her with the right. "Air conditioning doesn't work in the summer, heater doesn't work in the winter, rent's a crime." She pulled out an object from beneath her, smiling. "A-ha." Starbuck used the object to light the cigar and began puffing away in satisfaction.

"After the attack, I never… never pined over any of my old crap. Never missed it. Stupid view was a parking lot, broken toilet in the bathroom." She paused. "You know, everyone I _know_ is fighting to get back what they had." She looked at Helo. "I'm fighting because I don't know how to do anything else." The other pilot was silent, alternately looking at his friend and opening the package the Chief had tossed him. He picked up a small piece of beef jerky, nibbled off a bit, then consumed the whole piece when he found the taste to his liking.

"How long ago did they hit you?" John asked.

"You mean when the Cylons attacked us?" Helo responded. "Fifty…fifty one days. I've been stuck on this planet since then." The pilot paused. "Feels like a lifetime ago. Gods we were getting set to party, get reassigned when Galactica was decommissioned…"

"Waitasec. Aren't you at war with these robots?" The Chief interrupted. "How come…"

It was Thrace who spoke. "There was an armistice. Signed 40 years ago. Things had been quiet since then, up until a few months ago. Then the motherfrackers launched a surprise attack across Colonial space. Wiped us out in less than a day."

"Hard to believe that's possible Chief." Cortana commented. "12 worlds, probably billions of people if the planets are as developed as this one. Interstellar military. Even if the Cylons outnumbered them twenty to one…"

"How'd they pull_ that_ off?" John asked.

"They had some kind of virus in our defense networks. Allowed them to get into any system, any ship, any world. Took down our defenses before we knew what was happening and fracked us up good. I don't know the specifics, I'm a pilot not a tech."

"What's this Galactica?"

"It's our ship. It was one of the few…" Thrace's voice trailed off. "You know, I don't think I should tell you anymore yet."

"Still don't trust me?"

Thrace said nothing, just blinked. "You've got to win their trust Chief." Cortana chimed in his ear. "We're going to need these people's help if we have any hope of going home. These Cylons have already shown they'll shoot first and ask questions later. And they certainly aren't going to help another human, even if you aren't a…Colonial."

"I suppose you want my story. How I got here, who I am?" John said at length. The woman fixed a particularly intense gaze upon the Chief, as though she was trying to divine his thoughts. It would have intimidated most men.

But the Chief was not most men. "It's a long one."

"I'm not going anywhere for a while."

"Advice Chief: I don't think it's a good idea to mention my presence." Cortana spoke in John's ear again. "Judging from their hatred toward these robots the idea of any kind of A.I. will probably be met with hostility."

"Fine. My name really is John for starters. And I am a soldier."

"You're not like any marine I've ever seen." Helo interjected. He was busy devouring the rest of the ration.

"I'm what we call a SPARTAN."

"Never heard of that."

"Simplest explanation would be I'm a super-soldier. I've been trained since age 6 to be a living weapon, good with anything, guns, knives, whatever you can think of."

"How old are you now?"

"Technically I'm 46."

Helo's mouth opened again in shock. It was Thrace who spoke next, her eyes still fixed upon her erstwhile companion.

"Technically?"

"I've spent the past 4 years in a cryogenic sleep chamber. I was on a derelict spacecraft, or rather, the part that remained when the ship disintegrated mid-jump in slipspace."

Both pilots' eyebrows were raised quizzically.

"It's how we travel from system to system." The Chief responded to their unspoken question. "We use a drive that let's us open a tunnel into this slipspace stuff. It allows us to travel faster-than-light, but it takes anywhere from 2 months to half a year or more to get someplace. I was on an unusually long jump, for reasons I'll keep to myself."

Starbuck glowered at him.

"You don't trust me? Fine. Truth is I don't completely trust you two either. I don't know who started this war between you and a race of robots, and I only have your word that _they_ broke a ceasefire. You start telling me your 'classified' crap, and I'll tell you more about me."

Starbuck continued to glare at the Chief. _Guess she doesn't like being told off._ Helo nodded his head and pursed his lips, considering the situation. He finished the remains of his meal, then spoke.

"So how'd you get down here if you were in a cryogenic state?" Agathon asked.

"I couldn't restore any systems except basic sensors. I programmed the chamber to wake me if my ship came close to any kind of object, a planet, asteroid, you know?" This was a lie. Cortana had kept watch over him while he slept. Although the A.I. had placed herself in a standby mode she had periodically activated herself to check the vessel's state. It was Cortana who had awakened him.

But he wasn't going to tell these two that tidbit yet. "The ship woke me up when I got close to this planet, Caprica right?" The Chief continued. "There wasn't anyway that the craft was going to make it through the atmosphere in one piece. This suit I'm wearing is sealed for Zero-G combat, so I could move around the ship. I rigged up an ejection pod out of a shielded container, loaded it with supplies, and launched myself out of a cargo bay after I hit the atmosphere. Got lucky and landed in one piece."

"I didn't see anything burning up in the atmosphere when I got here earlier today." Starbuck commented.

"That's because I landed here yesterday I think. I blacked out upon impact. My restraints broke and I was thrown up against a wall of the pod. Don't know how long I was out, and it was sunset when I got up."

"You don't look hurt."

"Armor I'm wearing is pretty heavy stuff. And the 'super' part of being a super-soldier is the genetic enhancement. My bones are damn near unbreakable."

Helo's head snapped up. "Genetic enhancements?"

"Yeah. Started when I was 14. Only about half in the program made it through. The rest died or were crippled." He didn't want to mention numbers at this point. "That's why I'm so strong, if you were wondering, although the suit helps."

The pilots said nothing for awhile. Starbuck leaned back on the loveseat and closed her eyes. Helo did the same on a chair opposite, resting one foot on a table between them. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and asked another question.

"You mentioned you'd run into the Cylons before?"

"At that spaceport outside the city. I decided to scout around my crash site. And saw a craft, like the one Sharon stole…"

"Raider." Starbuck interrupted.

"I saw a raider fly over my position. I followed its flight path and wound up in the hills overlooking the place. And before you get any ideas about stealing a ship from there, I'll tell you now: bad idea. I scoped out the place for a few hours, saw 14 raiders, over 70 Centurions, and about 20 of these humanoid Cylons. Could of looked around more, but they spotted me, sent some of their Centurions after me. I got away, and shot 5 of them in the process."

Helo blinked. "You killed 5 Centurions _by yourself_?"

The Chief held up his assault rifle for emphasis. "Whatever they make them out of can't stand up to bullets from this. It's an assault rifle. The other weapon I'm carrying is a shotgun. Good for close encounters."

Helo blinked again and pursed his lips, then nodded and rested his head against the back of the chair. He was quickly asleep.

Thrace soon followed. _At least they don't think I'll knife them in their sleep_. _That's as good a point to begin as any._ The Chief took off his helmet and opened up a ration pack of his own, economically eating the meal in a few minutes.

A couple of hours went by, and not even a blip showed up on the Chief's sensors. Finally Starbuck stirred, feeling something in the pocket of her jacket. She pulled out what looked like a set of keys and grinned at Agathon.

"Tired of walking?" she said.


	6. Part VI: Guns and Toasters

**Part VI: Guns and Toasters**

Helo laughed in pleasure when he saw the vehicle. It looked like it was a 4-wheel drive civilian transport, designed for off-road travel, with a flatbed in back for cargo. _Probably not as fast as a Warthog, but it'll do_.

"The chassis is reminiscent of old Earth designs." Cortana chimed in.

"Which one?" The Chief murmured, softly enough so the two pilots couldn't overhear.

"Accessing… seems to be closest to the H-M-M-W-V design, American, late 20th century. If the characteristics are the same, it should take your weight in back without much of a problem."

"Much?"

"Short of riding a tank, Chief, most vehicles have a problem with your weight. Maybe you should think about dieting."

He could see her blue figure smiling in his mind's eye.

"Smartass."

The two pilots climbed in the front with Starbuck driving. The Chief clambered up onto the flatbed in back. The vehicle squeaked and groaned, buckling under the weight slightly. Starbuck leaned her head out of the driver's side window and stared daggers into the Chief's helmet.

"You trying to frack up our ride?"

"Sorry." John replied. "I weigh close to a thousand pounds in this suit."

Starbuck snorted and ducked back into the cabin. The thing started without much of a problem, which surprised the Chief. _Judging from the state of her apartment I thought Thrace wasn't much for maintenance. _She didn't even bother to unlock the gate in front of the garage, simply barreling through it as she drove onto the city street.

They headed west first, away from the city as fast as possible. The terrain wasn't as undulating as it was near the spaceport but it was nearly as wooded. After about an hour the vehicle turned south, as planned. John had told them his crash location, saying he had extra rations and weapons still in the pod, and the 2 pilots had agreed to pick them up.

They angled southeast. The idea was to drive until they were south of the crash site then double back toward the city, north. Hopefully, if anyone was following them, they would be thrown off the trail long enough for the 3 to gather everything at the site.

But like most plans, things didn't work out as expected.

They were within a mile of the site when the Chief saw blips appear on his motion sensors. He quickly knelt by the back of the vehicle's cabin and rapped on the metal backing. Starbuck hit the brakes and brought the truck to a halt.

"What?" She asked.

"I'm picking up movement, 5…"

"7 Chief." Cortana corrected.

"7 signals, south of us. About 200 meters out."

"Any idea what they are?"

"No. My scanner just picks up motion. But you and I both know they're probably Cylons." He paused. "They're moving parallel to us, heading towards the pod."

"They're probably on foot. We can beat them there. Buckle up." The pilot grinned and gunned the engine.

"Estimation Cortana. Probability…"

"That you can load the rations and weapons before a probable Centurion force arrives? Based on available data of the Centurion's speed, probability that they hear the vehicle's engine, terrain variables…"

"Cortana…"

"31.5 percent. Assuming you help the 2 of them load and discover the exact site quickly."

The depression where John had landed seemed undisturbed from the day before. The cloak appeared to be still intact, which normally would be a good thing. Except the Chief needed to deactivate it quickly, which meant he needed to find the container's outline, then find the device, then feel around it for the activation switch, hopefully tripping it.

"There's nothing here!" Helo exclaimed when the truck came to a stop. The 3 leapt out and headed into the depression.

"That's because I put a cloaking device on the pod." The Chief replied, holding out his hands palms upward as he searched for the container. "It hides it from view. Watch your…" BANG! "…step."

Agathon had smacked his face against the container wall and was rubbing his cheek in pain, cursing. "Think Helo found it John." Starbuck said shaking her head with a small smile.

Unfortunately it took the Chief over 10 minutes of fumbling around to locate the device. He quickly deactivated it and attached it to his waist. The 3 rummaged about inside. The pilots were most eager for the food, and the two of them lifted the ration container with a grunt and slowly carried it up to the vehicle. The Chief picked up the sniper rifle inside and grabbed a satchel of ammunition for it and ran ahead of the pilots. They were all anxious to leave.

"What the … frack …is that thing?" Thrace asked between breathes. "It's … huge!"

"It's a sniper rifle. Fires bullets about the length of my hand." The Chief replied. He reached the truck and climbed up the flatbed, depositing the rifle and ammo before turning to help the Colonials load the food container.

"Why the hell would you need ammo that big?" Helo asked with a grunt as he shoved the container onto the flatbed.

"If you've seen some of the things I've had to kill, you wouldn't ask." The Chief pulled the container further on the flatbed and stood up. Almost on cue, a blip, then 2 then 4, appeared on his scanners to the southeast. "Uh-oh."

"Picking up something again?" Thrace said, grimacing.

"Yeah."

"Estimate 5 percent likelihood of loading the remaining cargo before contact Chief." Cortana chimed in again.

"Look, we're not gonna make it before they get here. There's still a lot of ammo in that pod, along with two pistols. You should get most of it in three trips, it's in a bunch of satchels. When you've got everything you can carry, throw this in through the hatch." He tossed Helo a frag grenade. "Press the red button on top then run like hell. It's a timed explosive. Should make a nice boom."

He jumped of the truck and took a few steps towards the contacts.

"Where the frack are you going?" Thrace growled.

"I'm buying you time. I'll hit them from the north, try to draw them to towards the city. Then I'll double back west. There's a gully about half a kilometer northwest of this spot. It's on your map. Meet me there."

Thrace frowned. "Let's just blow the stuff up now."

"Can't. The explosion will have them running right to us. They're only 200 meters out. Besides, I need that ammo you'll be carrying."

He turned and sprinted through the trees, angling to end up north of the blips on his scanner. He had run for only 15 seconds when he noticed a second set of contacts. 7 were closing in on the pod, 150 meters out now, and another group was approaching from the southwest, nearly 300 meters out. Neither could see the crash site, as it was located atop a small rise fortunately. He was just barely picking the second group up.

"Tactical assessment." The Chief commanded.

"Ambush is your best option." Cortana replied. "Keep on your current heading for 10 more seconds, then drop down and lie in wait. Recommend you activate the cloak, it should hide you as the contacts pass by. Then open fire if necessary."

"Got it." John said, sprinting along. "How long will it take those 2 to finish loading?"

"Depending upon how many satchels they take per trip, 5 to 6 minutes. The explosion should tell you when they're done."

He followed Cortana's instructions, selecting a small log to lie behind. There was plenty of wooded cover behind him, he was almost certain to need it. The crash site was maybe 70 meters away. Already he was hearing the clanking sound that heralded a Centurion's approach. He waited 30 seconds, then activated the cloak.

All told, he had been lying still for perhaps a minute when the first Cylon passed in front of his position. It turned to its right, looking directly at him. Its red eye lingered over the log he was behind, then it turned and continued walking towards the crash site. The remaining robots were spread in a search line to the machine's left. He could see all 7.

The Chief brought the assault rifle to his shoulder and aimed at the closest Cylon.

_One burst, one kill_.

The robots didn't have time to react after the initial rounds felled the first Centurion. By the time the remainder had turned towards his position, he had aimed, fired, and dropped another target with a second burst. Like a herd of deer the remaining 5 scattered, diving, jumping, and running for any cover nearby. He fired another two bursts, striking a third robot in the shoulder but the thing kept moving. The rifle clicked on an empty chamber; he'd never reloaded the half empty clip from his earlier encounter.

He retreated behind a large tree nearby, reloading on the run. The Centurions' fire tracked his path. One came bounding from a bush to his left, trying to flank him. He dropped to one knee and raised his rifle, followed the Cylon's path in his sights, and fired 2 bursts, blowing the thing's head off and igniting a small explosion.

"3 down, 4 to go." He spoke aloud. A buzzing coming from his hip told him the cloak had dropped and needed to recharge.

"Not quite John. Check your scanners." Cortana replied in a grim tone.

He looked at his motion sensors again. The second group was rapidly moving toward his location, 225 meters out and closing fast. He could now make out their numbers. It wasn't another group of 7.

It was 30.

"Shit."

"Recommend you retreat an additional 20 meters. Try to draw these 4 into the open."

But the robots didn't fall for the bait. Once ambushed, they proceeded cautiously, always placing some kind of cover in front of them. Having seen the fate of their 3rd dead comrade, the Centurions were no longer going for the fast kill, the enfilade.

He waited for any targets to appear, and when none showed, tried to run out from his new spot of cover, a small boulder, and head north. The Cylons opened up, firing from a line of small pine trees southward. He quickly ducked back in cover as a round struck home, diminishing his shields slightly. He rose to a standing position, firing the remaining rounds in his clip at the gun flashes in the trees before ducking down and reloading. More rounds had hit him, but the shields remained intact. Perhaps 2 minutes had passed. _One trip. 2 more for the rest of the cargo. _

He checked his scanner again. A group of 5 signals had broken off from the larger force to the south, now only 150 meters away but slowing its approach. The second cluster was paralleling the bigger group, angling northeast at a much faster pace. Suspicious, he dove out from behind the boulder, rose to his feet, and ran behind a large log to the east. The robots fired again, but the rounds were noticeably less accurate.

_They're trying to drive me into a firing squad_.

"Options Cortana?"

"None that are good. Thrace and Agathon will need at least an additional 2 minutes to finish loading."

He rose from behind the log, firing 2 bursts before dropping back into cover again. "How long until contact if I let them coax me eastward?"

"Not long enough."

"Damn." He rose and fired another burst. 2 rounds struck him in return, reducing his shields to 65 percent. He ducked and waited for them to repower. The large group was now 125 meters away.

A beeping noise at his waist told him some good news. The cloak had recharged. An idea sprang into his head.

"Hang on, Cortana." He activated the cloak and bounded over the log.

"John what are you..."

He sprinted full tilt towards the 4 Centurions in the trees south of him.

"Oh boy."

He covered the ground in perhaps 10 seconds, slinging the assault rifle onto his back and unlimbering the shotgun. The Centurions fired, but they could only see the bushes moving where the Chief had _been_, not where he actually _was._ The rounds missed, and suddenly he was amongst them.

He dove through the tree line, winding up flat on his stomach beside 2 robots. They turned and pointed their arms in the direction of the opening in the brush, but did not fire, their heads looking left and right for any trace of him. He rolled onto his back and fired his weapon into the torso of the nearest Cylon, blowing it backward in a shower of sparks. The thing's companion fired over his head, still not able to see him. He chambered another slug and fired once more, tearing the second machine in two.

The other pair of Centurions apparently realized the Chief was invisible and began firing in a wide arc along the ground. A shot clipped his leg as he rose to his feet, causing the cloak to fail. The robots continued to fire, causing his shields to blaze yellow. He fired, pumped the action on the shotgun, fired again, all the while charging towards them. One of his shots went wide, the other striking one machine on its hand. By the time he was upon the Centurions his shield gauge read 35 percent.

He slammed the butt of his weapon into the torso of the nearest robot, causing it to fall backward. Its partner swung a clawed hand at him; he ducked, tripping it with a roundhouse kick to the foreleg. Rounds struck him full in the chest; the thing's partner had sat up and started shooting. He coolly turned and fired his shotgun, destroying the machine. Then he pointed his weapon skyward and slammed the butt down onto the head of the 4th Centurion, once, twice, three times, until it was a bludgeoned mess.

He'd gotten lucky. The last shots had completely drained his shields. The large group of Cylons was still 50 meters away, he could see their metal bodies flash in the woods southward, but fortunately they hadn't fired on him yet. He ducked back behind the tree line, slinging the shotgun back and readying the assault rifle again.

"Time Cortana."

"One minute" was the reply. His shields rapidly recharged, and he waited for a clear shot. It didn't take long. He aimed at a Centurion which came into view 40 meters away. One burst dropped it.

There was a pause, then the world erupted in geysers of dirt and sparks as all the remaining Cylons fired on the pines. He flattened against the earth as what felt like a hurricane of bullets tore the air over him. He crawled on his belly for several meters until the fire slackened, then rose and darted for the log he'd used before his mad charge.

An explosion echoed through the trees. _Cargo packed. Let's get the hell out of here._

He rose and sprinted for another boulder further north. The throng of robots following him were apparently advancing slowly. He hadn't seen any clear the pine line south but was still picking them up on his scanners. He dove behind the stone, ending up behind it and another tree nearby for cover. Pausing to catch his breath, he stood and searched for any signs of movement.

He'd forgotten about the smaller group of 5, but they hadn't forgotten him. The Chief was rewarded with a burst of rounds that struck him in the stomach and waist. He quickly ducked behind the boulder, thankful that his shields had only fallen to 75 percent. Fire was coming to the east. He rose over the boulder, just enough to fire at a cluster of bushes where he thought the Cylons were hiding, and squeezed off a few rounds.

More shots tore into his position from the north. The Cylons had flanked him. He was boxed in. He ducked back down behind the boulder, inching towards the tree, and leaned out. He could see 2 Centurions using a large tree for cover, perhaps more.

"Use the cloak John!" Cortana yelled.

He reached down to thumb the activation switch, but nothing happened when he pressed it. He looked down. A round had struck the cloaking device. It was broken in two, one piece dangling from several wires. He tore it away in anger.

He swung around the tree, fired two bursts at the Cylons north of him, ducked down, rose over the boulder, and fired at the Centurions eastward. He looked south. There, emerging from the tree line, was a line of at least 20 Centurions.

"This isn't looking good." He said aloud.

The sound of an engine roaring caused him to look northward again. There, Starbuck was speeding through the woods, aiming the truck straight at the Centurions behind the tree. The pair turned, opening fire, their rounds pinging off the front of the vehicle, to no avail. The truck slammed into the Cylons with a metallic crunch.

Starbuck leaned her head out of the drivers side window. "Come on!" She yelled.

The Chief leapt from the boulder, running straight for the two pilots, the Cylons' fire stitching a path behind him. With a jump, he landed atop the flatbed. The truck buckled under his weight. "GO!" He yelled. Rounds banged off the side of the flatbed.

Starbuck gunned the engine and headed northeast, down a small incline. In a few seconds they were out of sight of the Centurions. The firing immediately ceased. They turned east now, streaking through the woods.

For the moment at least, they were safe.

The Chief leaned over the driver's side of the cabin and knocked on the door. Starbuck rolled the window down.

"I thought I told you to meet me at the gully."

"You'll find I'm a frack-up when it comes to following directions." The pilot replied with a grin.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They had driven until dusk. Starbuck had stopped the truck by a small creek. They'd created an impromptu campsite, no fire, but at least they could stretch their legs outside of the truck. The three were sitting with their backs resting on a tree.

"Well, this has been a fun day." Agathon groused.

Starbuck smirked. The Chief said nothing.

"I'll take first watch." Thrace declared.

The Chief nodded. "Thanks. I could use some sleep. Wake me next."

"Fine, John." There was a pause. "You're a soldier right? You got a rank and last name? Sounds pretty damn silly if everyone calls you 'Spartan John.'"

The Chief smiled a little beneath his helmet. "Rank's Master Chief Petty Officer, highest among the SPARTAN-II's. Don't have a last name Thrace. Just a number."

The pilot frowned and glanced at him. "No last name? You even remember you're parents or did they frack with your memory too?"

"Vaguely. I was kidnapped from my home as a kid."

"Gods."

"Friends call me Chief or Master Chief, Thrace."

"My friends call me Starbuck, or Kara…Chief."

John closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.

Later, during the Chief's watch, a blip appeared on his sensors. There was only one signal. He tracked it as drew closer. He guessed it was across the creek when he stood up from beside the tree. The blip froze, then quickly retreated, away from the campsite.

"Wonder what that was…" he wondered aloud. Nothing else happened that night.


	7. Part VII: Pilots and Pyramids

**Gods and Demons Part VII Pilots and Pyramids**

_Weird. Sometimes this place looks just like a forest back home._

The Chief was standing with his back to the vehicle. He was atop a small rise, looking down the hill at terrain they had crossed that morning. The two Colonials were below him by the vehicle 20 meters away, bent over a map and trying to determine their exact position. Starbuck had parked the truck near a small abandoned construction site.

"We gotta figure out where the hell we are." The Chief heard Starbuck say.

"What you don't know?" Helo replied.

He was too far away to hear Starbuck's retort. Frankly he didn't care. Movement had appeared on his scanners behind him, past the vehicle's location, just as Agathon had spoke. He walked down the incline at a quick pace, but did not run, so as not to provoke an ambush from whoever was watching the 3 of them.

The pilots were still bent over the map, tracing the paper with their fingers. He was 10 meters away now. _Still can't shout. Give me 10 more seconds._

"Alright we can head towards Gubb's point. There's an emergency airstrip there." Thrace continued.

Helo shook his head. "No. I've been…I was thinking we could head southwest towards…"

At the moment the Chief heard a click. He maybe 5 steps away from the other two. He tensed, recognizing the sound as a bolt action of a weapon being raked back, and expected whoever was out there to open up. Nothing happened.

Mercifully, the two pilots heard the noise as well. "Did you hear that?" Starbuck murmured to her companion. Helo didn't reply. The two nonchalantly walked around from the front of the truck towards the driver's side door. The Chief was already there.

"I've got movement, at least 4 separate signals, between 40 and 60 meters away." John said, keeping his voice low.

"Just 4?" Agathon asked.

"Can't get a better count. Blips aren't appearing in the same spot twice. Looks like a group of targets shifting in their position."

Thrace opened the driver's door, handing what looked like a sub-machinegun to Helo along with an ammunition belt. She grabbed two smaller sub-machineguns for herself.

Helo turned back to his fellow pilot. "Drive through a lot of bad neighborhoods?" He said, hefting his weapon.

"Better safe than sorry," came the reply.

"I hear that."

Not even 3 seconds later the woods came alive with muzzle flashes. The first rounds struck the vehicle, shattering the windshields on either side of the cabin. The three of them ducked behind the truck.

"We're sitting ducks out here!" Starbuck yelled.

"You go we'll cover!" Helo replied.

"Why me?!" Starbuck said in consternation.

"Don't start!"

"Fine!"

"Ready?"

"Yeah!"

Agathon nodded to the Chief, who was crouching near the rear of the truck. He tapped Thrace on the shoulder, yelling "Go!" and rose from behind the vehicle, firing a series of bursts into the line of shrubs where their ambushers were hiding. The Chief followed suit, firing several bursts.

Thrace had darted across a small open space and crouched behind a group of metal barrels in front of a chain-link fence. Helo ducked backed down, and yelled across to his companion. "5 of them spread out between 9 and 1! 50 meters!"

The Chief sidled along the vehicle and crouched behind Agathon. "It's your turn." He said, tapping the pilot on the shoulder. "Ready? Go!" Starbuck yelled, and rose, firing both her weapons into the trees as Helo darted across the open ground to take cover beside her. Again the Chief copied her action, firing bursts at the shrubs and this time hearing a yelp of pain.

His rifle clicked on an empty chamber. He crouched and reloaded, then sprinted across the ground. A round struck him in the shoulder, causing his shields to flare yellow, and he ducked behind Agathon. All 3 were now crouching behind the barrels.

"What the frack was that?" Helo asked, referring to the Chief's armor.

"Suit's shielded. It'll recharge after a bit, provided these bastards don't score any more hits. I think I hit something, heard a cry of pain."

"Didn't see any shiny silver out there." Starbuck spoke as she reloaded her weapons. "I think we're dealing with the human variety."

"Hope so. They're not as tough as mechanicals." Helo replied.

"And for a second I thought we were in trouble." The Chief quipped.

"Yeah, they do bleed good though, you gotta like that." Starbuck returned. The three rose and fired several bursts into the bushes again.

"You should be able to handle this group John." Cortana spoke in his ear.

"Yeah, but let's make sure these two get out okay." Was his whispered reply.

The return fire slackened. "Let's get out of here, come on!" Agathon yelled. He and Thrace ran out from the barrels, down a wooded path. The Chief fired one more burst, making sure they were clear for a few seconds, then followed.

They ran for a few seconds, ducking behind the corner of a small abandoned building for cover. "I'll flank." Starbuck said. "We'll draw fire." Agathon replied.

Starbuck ran up an incline behind the building. The Chief dove inside the structure, came to a crouch, and fired a burst at their pursuers. Agathon fired a burst from without the building then ran inside and stood to the Chief's left. The pilot and the SPARTAN continued to fire. They both ceased, the Chief falling prone and reloading, Helo ducking into a room away from the open window they had both been shooting through.

The Chief could hear Starbuck's machineguns chatter for a moment, then he and Agathon fired a few more bursts out of the building. "Go!" John yelled, motioning for his companion to exit the door. Helo ran outside. The Chief heard Agathon mount a metal staircase behind the building and fire more rounds before ceasing.

Strangely, a few seconds of silence followed. The Chief peered out of the doorway.

There, a tall, well built brown-haired man was pointing his weapon at Helo. Starbuck appeared behind the man, apparently a new Cylon humanoid he hadn't encountered. "Hi" she said. The man turned, drawing a pistol and pointing it at Helo while holding his main weapon in one hand and aiming at Thrace.

A crunch in the nearby brush signaled the appearance of more enemies. The Chief saw 4 from his vantage point. He stepped from the shadows of the doorway, leveling his weapon at man holding a pistol behind Helo. The man was wounded, his left arm bleeding, and he had a long rifle slung behind his back.

"7 enemy contacts Chief. 94 percent probability that both pilots will die if you attempt to take the Cylons down. 89 percent probability total enemy loss as well. I believe this is what the old Earth term 'Mexican Standoff' refers too." Cortana chimed in his ear.

Everything was still for a few moments, as both sides waited for the other to make a move.

Finally, Starbuck spoke. "We're not Cylons." She growled at the man between her and Helo.

The figure turned, sticking his pistol in his belt and aiming his main weapon with both hands at the pilot. "Right. You're human. You have a soul, you swim in the stream." He replied sarcastically. "We heard it all before."

"Hey!" Agathon interjected. "Colonial fleet! Notice the uniforms?"

"Yeah, right! We've seen Cylons in uniform before!" The man replied. "You're big green friend is something new. He the personal escort for a couple of skin jobs?"

"Hey asshole," the Chief interrupted, "this is an MA5C Individual Combat Weapon System in my hands. One round will split your friend's head here in two."

The wounded man glanced sidelong at the Chief for a split second.

The Cylon between the pilots paused. "We'rehuman." He said to Thrace.

"Yeah, right." Starbuck retorted. "Everyone on Caprica's _dead_."

"You're not."

"I just _got_ here. I want to hear some names."

The man breathed. "I'm Anders."

"Samuel T. Anders?" Helo responded.

"Yeah that's right." The man said. "This is Joe-man, Rally, Ten-point…"

"Sue-Shaun, Gripkey, Morris Fink?" Agathon continued for the man and laughed a little. "Kara, these are the Caprica Buccaneers."

"A sports team?" Cortana inquired.

"Ambushed by amateurs." The Chief muttered under his breath.

"Hmph. I don't think so." Thrace replied to Agathon's statement.

"Give me a ball, little girl, I'll shove it up your ass." A woman behind Starbuck said.

The pilot turned and pointed one of her guns at the woman. "Please. Try." She snarled.

"Okay," Helo spoke up, "since we're all getting along so well can people stop pointing their guns at us?"

Starbuck turned back to Anders. "How does a professional pyramid team survive a nuclear holocaust?"

"We were up in the mountains when the Cylons attacked." Anders answered. "High altitude training. We've been on the run ever since."

Starbuck looked at the people surrounding her incredulously. "Doing what?"

"Raiding military stores for ammo, anti-radiation meds, and plugging toasters whenever they show up."

"Same as us." Agathon said.

"Okay," Thrace spoke, "how many failed breaks did you have in the playoff against Aerulon?"

Anders looked at Starbuck like she had sprouted a third eye. "You're kidding right?"

"You either have the answer or you have a bullet."

"Three."

"Wrong," Thrace said with a grim smile, "four."

"Three! Last one was called back on instant replay."

"He's right Starbuck! I lost 20 cubits on that game!" Helo said with a nod.

"Fine. For now." The pilot looked around her. "On three."

"One," Anders said.

"Two," Thrace said.

"Three," the Chief said. Everyone slowly lowered their weapons at once.

"You know you guys suck, right?" Starbuck said with a smile. "Can't shoot, can't pass, sure as hell can't take point." She walked down the steps past Anders.

"Everyone's a critic," he replied.

The Chief walked up to the wounded man. "You just get this?" He said, pointing at the man's bleeding arm.

"Yeah."

"Sorry. My fault. Got a medical kit here," John said, opening his satchel. "Hold still." He looked the arm over. "Grazed you. Little more than a deep scratch."

"Hurts like a bitch pal. That's my throwing arm," the man replied, wincing as the Chief wrapped a bandage tightly around the wound after cleaning it with alcohol.

"Name's John."

"Name's Rally."

The group walked back down the path towards Starbuck's truck. "You got wheels of your own? Because I don't think I can cram all of you into the back." Thrace said.


	8. Part VIII: Schoolyard Revelations

**Part VIII Schoolyard Revelations**

"And that's the basics of Pyramid." Rally concluded in a drawl.

"Sounds like football and basketball had a bastard child." The Chief replied.

"Football?"

"A sport where I come from."

They were sitting on the flatbed of Starbuck's truck. The Caprican Resistance, as the Chief thought of his new friends, had led John and the pilots to a large cargo truck after their initial encounter. Anders had hopped in the driver's seat of his transport and Thrace had followed in her vehicle.

They'd been travelling eastward for perhaps an hour. Rally had occupied the Chief's time with small talk, mainly asking about the Chief's arrival on Caprica and what John, Thrace, and Agathon had been through the past two days. The Chief had related the version of his arrival that he had told the two pilots, and their retrieval of his supplies.

John paused a moment. "You seem to accept I'm an alien pretty easily."

"Used to be in the Colonial Marines for a couple of years. Anybody familiar with our stuff knows what you're packing ain't standard issue," Rally replied, drawling remarkably like a Southerner from old America. "Pilots seem a little put off by ya' too…"

"I put off everyone usually."

"... and since they'd have shot you if you was a Cylon, alien's the only thing that makes sense."

Again the Chief paused. "_You_ don't seem very intimidated by me, come to think of it."

Rally shrugged his shoulders. "Takes a lot to spook me, I guess. Now, if you was to suddenly grow a foot taller and sprout and extra pair a' arms, I mat be scared."

The Chief grinned beneath his visor. "How'd you go from the Marines to playing sports?"

"It was either that or jail for breaking and entering. Raised all kinds a' hell as a kid. Tried out for a minor-league pyramid team when I got out, got spotted by a scout, the rest is history. Was pretty good, if I may be allowed a small moment to brag."

"Was?"

"I'm 36 Chief. You know that sports players start ta' slow down at that age. Though," he added with a grin, "figured it'd be the manager who'd make me retire, not the damn Cylons."

The Chief grinned again, then allowed a small chuckle to escape from his lips.

"Laughter, Chief? Is the façade of the stone-faced warrior starting to crack?" Cortana asked in his ear. He could feel her smiling again.

"Heh. I like the guy," the Chief murmured so only she could hear. Then he raised his voice. "You must be a lot of help to Anders then, since you've been a soldier."

"'Bout as helpful as any paper-pushin' supply sergeant could be. 'Specially since basic was nearly 20 years ago. I'm an expert at teaching a guy how to blow his toe off."

Now the Chief laughed aloud.

The convoy pulled into a complex of buildings. None of the structures were greater than two stories tall; all were the same tan color and lined with windows.

_It's either a school or a prison._

Several Resistance members on the roofs covered the convoy with weapons as they pulled into an alley. Anders stopped the truck and hopped out. "Alright, let's get these weapons unloaded, let's go!" He yelled as a multitude of people appeared around the cargo truck.

Anders walked up to Thrace. "Raided an armory today," he spoke, "about 18 clicks north. Brought home _a lot_ of toys."

"What is this place?" Starbuck asked.

"Delphi Union High School. Toasters don't patrol this area. It's a good place to get some shut-eye, bite to eat."

The Chief helped Rally off the flatbed, then picked up the food container, hefting it onto his shoulders. "Speaking of food, Anders," he said, "where do you want this? It's rations."

Helo did a double-take when he saw the Chief lifting by himself a container that he and Thrace had struggled to carry up a small hill. Agathon looked back at Anders. "How many people you have here?" He asked, looking around at everyone gathering around the cargo truck.

"53," Sam replied, "we had almost a hundred before the toasters ambushed us last week. Let's go!" he yelled at the people unloading the cargo. "Chief," he said turning back to John, "there's a storage room we're using for food. You can put you're stuff in there as well. Rally, show him the way."

Rally hefted an ammunition satchel onto his good shoulder and waved at the Chief. "This way."

The raven-haired Pyramid player headed for a nearby door and motioned for John to follow.

"More Pyramid teams?" Starbuck asked, also looking at the crowd that had gathered.

"Nah, just us C-bucks. Rest are survivalists, hikers mostly." Anders replied.

"How's your stock of anti-radiation meds?" Helo asked as the Chief ducked inside the door. He couldn't hear Sam's answer.

Rally led him down a dark corridor, turned left, then headed down another dark hallway. He stopped at a set of double doors, opening them with a push of his good hand. "In here," he said.

The room was filled with cans, packages of dried goods, and a wall lined with water bottles. The Chief selected an empty corner and placed the ration container there. Rally dropped the satchel on the floor beside it. They made another trip to Starbuck's truck, gathering up more ammo satchels, the Chief grabbing hold of the sniper rifle.

"That's a big gods-damn gun."

"It's a sniper rifle, model 99D-S2 AM. 4 rounds a clip, 5-X or 10-X scope. Fires bullets about this long." The Chief held his thumb and forefinger 5 inches apart.

"That ain't gonna leave much if you shoot a small animal with it."

They went back into the building.

"Starbuck mentioned another team, Aerulon, awhile back." The Chief said.

"It's not a team, it's a planet. Every Colony's got at least one team on it. Some, like Caprica, got several. Champs last year were one of the teams from Picon." Rally frowned after he said the name. They walked for a few seconds in silence.

"Something wrong?" The Chief asked. Rally was too gregarious to simply shut up.

"Ah, nothing you said. I had some family on Picon, before the attack."

"Parents?"

"Nah. Wife and daughter. Married Carli when I was a Pyramid rookie. Kathleen's just startin'…" he paused, and corrected himself. "…_was_…just startin' her first year in high school."

More silence followed. A tear rolled down the man's cheeks. "You know, I've made plenty of toasters pay for the two of 'em. Still ain't enough."

The Chief said nothing for a long moment. "It'll never be enough."

They made 2 more trips back to Starbuck's truck before the Chief had gathered all of his supplies in the storeroom. Rally sat down heavily when they had finished. He hadn't spoken since he had told the Chief about his family. John tossed him a ration as he sat on the floor.

"Here," the Chief said, "food might cheer you up. It's a dish we call Spaghetti Carbonara. Comes with water."

"It any good?"

"No. Total crap."

Rally smiled and opened the container. "UNSC?" he asked, reading the label.

"United Nations Space Command. It's the name of the organization that governs the humans I'm with."

"How many worlds you fellers on?"

"Used to be 800."

Rally nearly choked on his first mouthful of spaghetti. "_DAMN_!"

"Yeah, 12 colonies is kind of small by comparison, I know."

Rally wiped his mouth and paused. "You said 800?"

"Now it's about 500."

"What happened?"

"A war." Rally said nothing, waiting for the Chief to continue. "We've been fighting a war with a collection of alien races, very different from humans, called the Covenant. Went on for some 27 years, most of which were spent gradually losing."

Rally frowned, and nodded at the Chief, indicating he should go on.

"Recommend avoiding specifics Chief." Cortana chimed in his ear. "Most of your missions are classified; even if these people are millions of light years from home you're under orders not to divulge any information about them."

The Chief was reticent; he was thinking about what he could say, and there weren't many happy moments to relate. "I was fighting during all of it, mostly black-ops stuff the common Marine never heard about, going from one mission to another. We won at the end I think, and that's a long story just by itself. I was heading home on my ship after basically winning the war when the craft fell to pieces."

Rally pursed his lips, and swallowed another mouthful of food, then cocked his head to the side. "So I guess you missed the big victory party, huh? Look at it this way, pal, those things usually suck anyway."

The Chief smiled beneath his helmet. "I'll say this for you, Rally, you can cheer me up."

"You smilin' under that sheet a' gold?" The man grinned. "Not like I can tell. What's the name of the UNSC homeworld anyway?" Rally shoved another forkful of spaghetti into his mouth when he finished.

"Doubt you've ever heard of it. It's a planet called Earth."

Rally spat out the pasta. "WHAT?!"

"Fascinating, Chief!" Cortana spoke. "He's heard of our home, yet we have no knowledge of his! I cannot even begin to speculate how this is possible!"

"You've heard of Earth?" the Chief asked Rally.

"It's the home of the 13th tribe of Kobol! It's a myth!"

"I don't know anything about this Kobol place…" the Chief replied.

"No reference in my databanks, Chief." Cortana supplied.

"…but Earth's no myth. I've been there."

Rally stared at the Chief in open-mouthed shock. After a few moments the Chief spoke again. "I need to speak to Helo and Starbuck. Please take me to them."

The Pyramid player led the Chief back to the cargo truck, which by now was almost completely unloaded. "Sue-Shaun, where are Starbuck and Helo?" Rally asked the woman.

"Sam took them to get some bunks."

Rally and the Chief checked several rooms, each having been converted into makeshift barracks or bedrooms. Finally they found the two pilots. Anders was helping them stow their gear in a locker.

"Starbuck, Helo, I need to talk to you two," the John spoke as he entered. The three Colonials in the room stood up. "Alone please." He gestured for Sam to leave the room.

Anders shrugged his shoulders and left, Rally following him.

"I'll tell you what I just told Rally," John continued when the Pyramid players were gone several seconds. "That UNSC organization I'm a part of? My people's homeworld? It's called Earth."

The pilots' eyes widened. "It…it's not a myth?" Helo whispered.

"By the gods!" Starbuck exclaimed.

"So you Colonials _have_ heard of it," the Chief concluded.

"Do you…know how to get there from Caprica?" Starbuck asked.

"Kara, I didn't even know what planet I was on until I met you two. I'm quite literally lost in space. I don't have a clue how far away or in what direction the Colonies are from Earth. What's this Kobol place Rally mentioned?"

"It's… humanity's original home. The place where the gods gave birth to us." Helo explained, still whispering in shock.

"Highly unlikely Chief." Cortana advised in his ear. "Fossil evidence on Earth is extensive and dating back tens of thousands of years. _That_ is humanity's home."

"I doubt that," the Chief replied to the pilots, "but it'll take awhile to explain. Why do you need to know where Earth is?"

Starbuck opened her mouth, then closed it. She frowned. It seemed like a furious conflict of thoughts was raging within her mind. Finally, she walked over to a collection of equipment on a bed, bent down, and retrieved a long golden arrow. "This is why I came back to Caprica," she said, standing and holding the object up for the Chief's inspection. "It's called the Arrow of Apollo. It was in that museum you met us in. It's supposed to show us the way to Earth."

_Now I get it._ "So you're looking for Earth as a new home, and I'm looking to get back there," the Chief replied. "This your 'classified' stuff?" Thrace nodded. "Guess you'd better take me along when you two leave for your ship."

Starbuck nodded again, still wide-eyed in astonishment. "You bet your ass."

Cortana spoke in his ear again. "They let me pick, did I ever tell you that? Choose whichever SPARTAN I wanted. You know me, I did my research, watched as you became the soldier we needed you to be. Like the others you were strong, and swift, and brave, a natural leader. But you had something they didn't, something no one saw but _me_. Can you guess?"

"Animal magnetism?" The Chief replied. He felt her smile once more.

"Luck."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

2 days had passed. Thrace and Agathon both needed time to rest and were glad for the opportunity, and Anders helpfully offered to scout around and find an airbase using his people. The Chief had spent the time giving the Resistance members what little training he could. He showed them how to make bombs, construct fuses out of household items, taught them how to reload a clip rapidly, he even set up a grenade throwing range in a section of the school.

Anders' people may have been amateurs, but they had been athletes or outdoorsman before the Cylons attacked. They picked up what the Chief taught them quickly.

_Hell, in a couple of weeks I could get them through basic qualifiers without a problem_.

He'd also spent some time picking Rally's brain, gathering basic information about this Kobol place and the history of the ColoniesRally wasn't a religious man by any means but his information was very useful. Cortana, as was her way, filed everything in her databanks for reference.

The 12 Colonies were the worlds settled by refugees from a war fought on Kobol, involving a set of gods whose names matched those in the pantheon of deities in the Greco-Roman religions of Earth. Each "tribe" apparently had settled a different world. According to Colonial legend, a 13th tribe had left the planet to found another colony, Earth. The similarities between Colonial and Greek/Roman religions were striking, although the Chief had no idea who or what these gods, the Lords of Kobol, were, and doubted that human life had actually begun there. If Cortana had any theories, she was, rather unusually, keeping them to herself.

Both the pilots were anxious to be gone. A scouting party had returned that morning, informing Anders of the location of a small refueling site. The Chief, Starbuck, and Helo were now leading a convoy of 2 vehicles, heading towards the Cylons' station.

Starbuck was behind the wheel of her truck with Agathon in the passenger seat. The Chief was riding in the flatbed again with Anders, Rally, Sue-Shaun, and several other Resistance fighters. Starbuck brought the truck to a stop. Everyone dismounted, more guerrillas hopping out of the cargo truck behind the Chief.

"I'm going to scout down the road, a few hundred meters, make sure the way is clear." John said to Anders. He sprinted down the road.

"Right." The Resistance leader turned to his people. "Sue-Shaun, I want you to watch our perimeter, especially on the flank." The Chief heard Anders say as he ran away from the others.

The forest on either side of the path was still, but he could still make out the noises of the wildlife in the area. He'd gone 100 meters away when he spotted a blip on his motion sensors. It was still 250 meters distant, but closing. The Chief walked closer, then saw the blip expand to 5 signals. They were all advancing down the road towards the convoy's position.

"96 percent probability that the contacts are Cylons, Chief. Recommend you return to the convoy and warn the others." Cortana advised.

He quickly turned and backtracked. But more trouble was approaching. Another set of contacts appeared past the signals of the Resistance fighters. These too were also closing fast, and would hit the convoy from the side. His alarm grew as he ran. There were at least 15 enemy signals, and they would attack the convoy before he could reach his friends.

"It's a two-pronged ambush Chief. They were expecting us."

The firing started when he was 40 meters away. Muzzle flashes dotted a line of bushes opposite the convoy, as the Cylons fired several bursts. He was close enough to see Starbuck's truck. No one had been hit. Yet.

The humans returned fire, taking cover behind the vehicles or in the nearby brush. The Chief covered the ground in a few seconds, hip-firing two bursts at the forest where the Cylons were shooting from. He dove to the ground and rolled, coming to a crouch beside Rally, who had taken cover behind a tree stump. Flashes of metal told him they were facing Centurions.

"Anders!" he yelled to the Resistance leader. "I've got 15 signals in front of us! There's another group of at least 5 coming down the road!"

"Frack." Rally muttered under his breath. The Pyramid player grimaced as he fired his rifle at the bushes.

The Chief noticed. "Shoulder still hurt?"

"Yeah ya' dumb fracker!" They both continued to fire into the forest.

"Get back! Everybody fall back, fall back!" the Chief heard Helo yell. The others began to retreat into the woods behind the convoy.

"Right, you go first Rally; I'll bring up the rear."

"You're the damn super-soldier!" The Pyramid player rose from his crouch and retreated into a wood-line behind them. The Chief fired 4 more bursts at the Cylons, then turned and followed. Rally ducked behind a large tree, spun around the trunk, and covered the Chief as he ran. The guerrilla's rifle fired once, twice, a third time, and John heard a metallic clink behind him.

"Got one!" Rally yelled as the Chief dove behind the trunk.

"Good. Get moving," John replied. He crouched, and aimed at a Centurion that had appeared through the brush. He fired two bursts, dropping the machine, and fired more rounds at a separate muzzle flash before his gun clicked on an empty chamber. He ducked behind the tree and reloaded. A cry of pain caused him to look behind.

Rally was hit. He was thrashing on the ground.

The Chief left the tree, running to stand over the Resistance fighter, who was cursing. "Fracking bastards! My throwin' arm again!" A mass of blood could be seen. The round had struck the middle of the shoulder blade.

"Get up! Sling your rifle over your good shoulder!" The Chief commanded. A bullet struck him in the back, dropping his shields to 90 percent. He spun and fired a burst at the nearest muzzle flash. Rally grunted in pain and tried to stand.

"Don't bother!" the Chief yelled. He hefted Rally onto his left shoulder, holding onto the guerrilla with his left hand. John turned and sprinted after the other humans in front of them. More rounds struck the ground at his feet and whizzed by him. Another 2 bullets struck him, fortunately missing Rally.

"There's a toaster behind us!" his cargo yelled, panic evident in his voice.

The Chief spun again, spotting a Centurion in the open standing beside the tree he had been using for cover. John raised his assault rifle and hip-fired again, tracking the rounds up the robot's body. The machine's leg was torn off and it collapsed in a smoking ruin. He turned and continued running into the woods.

"Damn that's one helluva gun, Chief!" Rally yelled in triumph.

A few moments later they had reached a clearing. The other Resistance members had regrouped here. Unfortunately, they had been forced to leave their transports, which meant a long walk home. The Chief gently placed Rally on the ground and cracked open his medical kit, examining the man's wound. Helo and Agathon were walking among the group, trying to get an accurate head count and see if anyone was missing.

"Bullet went clean through Chief, which is fortunate. Shoulder blade is torn up badly. He'll keep the arm, but his days of playing professional sports are probably over." Cortana summed up her diagnosis as the Chief cleaned away the blood.

"Good news is you'll live, Rally." The Chief said, treating the injury with a coagulant to stop the bleeding. The guerrilla winced in pain.

"What's the bad news?" Rally replied.

"Round's tore up your shoulder pretty good. I'm sorry to say, this, but as you're current team doctor I am forced to inform you that your playing days are over."

"Fracking Cylon bastards." Rally said with a smile as the Chief wrapped a bandage around the shoulder.

Helo did a double take again, checking the small crowd of humans in the clearing. "Waitasec. Where's Starbuck?" he asked aloud.

The Chief checked the group himself. Thrace was missing.


	9. Part IX: The Plan

**Part IX The Plan**

They'd been looking for Starbuck for over two days now. The Caprican Resistance had combed the area between their base and where they were ambushed by the Cylons repeatedly, searching for any sign of the pilot and Sue-Shaun, who was also missing. The Chief was on point, in front of a line of guerrillas spread behind him to the left and right.

Rally was by his side, taking point with the SPARTAN. Although the Pyramid player's left arm was now in a sling, the man had refused to stay behind. "Sue-Shaun", as the man related it, "is my protégé on the team and I ain't about to lose her too. I may not be able to fire a rifle, but I can still hold a pistol, and you'll be wantin' an extra set of eyes."

Anders, seeing the alternative as locking Rally in a room back at the high school, had relented. The Resistance Leader was behind the Chief, moving alongside Helo as they all frantically searched for their missing friends. In Anders case, there was an added level of desperation to find Starbuck. The Chief suspected that the pilot and the guerrilla leader had developed a quick relationship, the kind of whirlwind romance seen often in war.

The party returned to the ambush site once again. They'd been to the area several times before; the vehicles were still parked where they had been abandoned, the Cylons apparently having no interest in them.

"Anders, we must have been over this line 10 times already," the Chief heard Helo say.

"She must have taken a bullet, she was _right here_ by the vehicles," Anders emphatically replied, pointing at Starbuck's truck. The anxiety was evident in his voice.

"She would have got up and crawled out of here." Agathon replied. "Hey!" he shouted to the others, "we have to search the entire area again."

The other Resistance fighters spread out along the clearing, checking for any enemy activity, but the Chief wasn't picking anything up. He stopped at the front of Thrace's truck and turned around. "I'm not picking up anything," he said to Anders, who was checking the cabin of the vehicle.

The Pyramid player grunted and shook his head. "I _knew_ we shouldn't have pulled back so fast, I thought she was right with us!" He said, pacing past Helo in impotent fury.

"Anders, we got ambushed," the pilot replied, "okay we all got separated, there was nothing we got have done about it. Kara of all people would understand. Let's just find her!" Agathon walked past the truck and looked at a cluster of trees.

A blip appeared on the Chief's sensors, behind a large tree opposite the clearing. "Movement!" the SPARTAN yelled, dropping to a crouch and aiming his shotgun at the tree. A crunch coming from behind it told him something was indeed there.

The other members of the group took cover as well and aimed at the source of sound. "I know where Starbuck is," a woman's voice behind the tree said. Moments later, an Asian Cylon, the Sharon model, appeared from behind the tree, her hands held high in surrender.

"Sharon?" Helo asked, half in fear and half in disbelief. Anders glanced at Agathon quizzically. "Where have you been?" the pilot continued.

"Tracking you," the Cylon replied, her tone pleading.

"Who is she?" Anders demanded.

Helo lowered his weapon. "She's with us," he said to Sam, placing his hand atop the guerrilla's gun and lowering it as well.

"She that Cylon ya' told me about from the museum?" Rally whispered to the Chief. Anders turned and walked past John as Rally spoke.

"Yeah," was the terse reply. The Chief still hadn't lowered his shotgun.

"You're the father of my child, Helo," Sharon said to the pilot, "I'm not going to lose you." The words were sincere.

"For a machine, Sharon appears to mimic emotions very well." Cortana analyzed, speaking in John's ear. "Were she human, I would estimate a 94 percent probability _she_ loves Helo as well."

"Even if it's software, those emotions are still real. How else would you describe your response when you laugh or make a joke?" The Chief replied in a whisper.

"Point taken, but remember my programming and emotions are cloned from Dr. Halsey. I'll bet your suit of MJOLNIR armor that they are a more accurate reference point than whatever the Cylons have used for Sharon's 'feelings.'"

The Chief knew better than to take the bet.

Helo and Sharon were staring at one another, both looking like they wanted to run into each other's arms, yet both were holding back. Finally, Sharon glanced to her lover's left and noticed the Chief, still crouched, still aiming his shotgun. She started.

"What…who… is that?" she asked.

Helo turned, saw John still aiming at his erstwhile companion, and spoke. "It's _okay_, Chief."

The Chief lowered his weapon. "How long have you been hiding here?" he asked the Cylon.

"A few hours. I've been waiting for you." She looked at Helo as she finished.

"I thought as much," the Chief grunted. "I don't like surprises. Your info better be good, because I don't think Anders and the others will let you leave here alive otherwise."

Sharon said nothing, still trying to figure out what exactly the green armored giant before her was.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Anybody got a map of the area around the Asylum?" Anders asked.

"I got one." Rally said. He walked over to the cargo truck, withdrew a case from the back, and pulled out a large map, spreading it on the hood of Starbuck's truck in front of the group.

"Alright, the place is here," said Sharon as she leaned over pen in hand and marked Starbuck's location with a red X. Anders, Rally, and another Resistance member, a young man named Morris, drew back in fear as the Cylon spoke. If Sharon noticed, she said nothing. "Here's where we are, the refueling station you wanted to hit was over here." she continued, circling the locations. "There's a large Centurion force, over 100, that patrols the woods north and west continuously, and there are vibration sensors set up in the forest to the south. It's how they knew you were coming yesterday; the vibrations of the vehicles were detected."

"And east is open plains. We'd be spotted at least a full 3 clicks before we reached the Asylum." Anders finished. "Place is a fracking fortress. What the hell is going on there? Cylon's don't even have this much stuff at the spaceport, if what the Chief told us was accurate."

"It's a farm." Sharon said. She looked hesitant to continue.

The others said nothing, not understanding. "I doubt you're raising crops there." The Chief said.

"We're…they…are conducting experiments on Cylon-human cross breeding. Using…captured humans."

There was stunned silence around the truck. "You fracking bastards." Morris growled.

Anders gathered himself for a moment and took a deep breath. "That means a lot of toasters inside as well. Skin jobs and Centurions right?" He looked at Sharon for confirmation.

The Cylon bit her lip and nodded.

The Chief bent over the map. "We'll have to hit the place from the south, all your people here in one attack. You don't have enough men to hit it from separate sides, and anybody approaching from another direction will be detected, or worse. You'll have to move in on foot to avoid setting off the vibration sensors, which is a problem."

"Starbuck and Sue-Shaun may not be in any condition to walk," Helo said, shaking his head, "and it's going to take a long time to cross this field here." He pointed at a clearing south of the asylum.

"Exactly." The Chief replied, nodding his head.

"There's more," Sharon said, "the moment you attack an alert will be sent out through the Network. Centurions will be dropped in the woods southward and the patrolling force will close in from two sides..."

"And we're trapped." Morris finished for her. Everyone was silent for a moment again.

"Well, I guess we'll have to have our ride waitin' for us when we leave." Rally said.

"How? Those damn vibration sensors will pick us up if we use the trucks!" Morris replied, raising his voice.

"Then we'll have to use a spacecraft," the Chief replied. "Would a Raptor work?"

Sharon's eyebrow quirked upward at the suggestion. "No Chief," Helo spoke, "a Raptor holds 10, 12 people at most. We'd need 3 or 4, and we don't have the pilots."

"So we steal something bigger." Rally said.

"Like what?" Anders asked.

"A heavy raider," Sharon stated.

"There's one touching down at the refueling station." Morris uttered.

"It's been have moved to another location after the ambush." Sharon replied.

"What's a heavy raider?" John queried.

Again Sharon's eyebrows rose. "It's a large transport or assault craft, used to attack large ships. It has a large bay designed to offload Centurions as boarding parties onto enemy vessels. There's enough room in one for all of us. I can pilot one."

The Colonials were silent, the displeasure at being forced to trust a Cylon evident on all their faces, excluding Helo.

"What's it look like?" The Chief asked.

"8 engines in back, has 6 chain-guns below the cockpit capable of very rapid fire. You'd know it if you saw it, it's big and brown."

"Chief, that matches the description of the large craft we saw in the hanger at the Delphi spaceport!" Cortana exclaimed excitedly.

"I think there's one at the Delphi spaceport." John told the others.

"Whoa waitasec Chief. You said it yourself, there's over 70 Centurions and 20 humanoid models guarding the place. And a squadron of Raiders." Helo said.

"Actually it's 80 Centurions and 24…humanoids." Sharon corrected. "How did you know?" She asked turning to the Chief.

"Scouted the place. Long story," he answered, then turned back to the others. "It's the only heavy raider we can get our hands on in the next 24 hours. Unless someone knows another landing field nearby, it's our only option."

"Look Chief, I know you're tough, but you're not _that _good." Helo responded.

"Actually, I am." Silence greeted his remark.

"Fine," Anders spoke, "you and Sharon will have to steal this Raider. We'll head north through the woods and hit the Asylum, springing Starbuck, Sue-Shaun, and_ anybody_ else we find alive. We'll bring them back to the field south of the hospital, then you two pick us up and we head back to base. How long will it take you to reach the spaceport?"

Sharon rolled her eyes. "He won't be able to match my pace, not with the gear on him," she pointed to the sniper rifle on his back as she continued. "I'll have to run the 30 kilometers to the landing strip, over wooded hills the whole way, if we have any hope of rescuing your people in the next 24 hours. I'll have to go alone."

"Trust me, I'll keep up." The Chief replied. Again all eyes turned to him.

Sharon pursed her lips and frowned. "Assuming 6 clicks an hour, 2 hours to sneak in, grab the ship, and fly back…I…I mean we, can be back in 7 hours. Provided he," she hiked her thumb at John, "can run the entire way."

"Her calculations are accurate Chief. The pace shouldn't be any problem." Cortana chimed in his ear.

"It'll take us 3 hours to reach the asylum on foot from here," Morris stated. "We should be leaving right before you arrive at the spaceport. Don't be late."

"Alright, get some rest people. We're going to need it." Anders said, dismissing the group.

Sharon beckoned to Helo. The two wandered off, probably to talk about Sharon's betrayal of Helo when she stole Thrace's raider. Rally grabbed the Chief's arm.

"I don't trust that frackin' toaster," he told the Chief.

"Neither do I. It's one of the reasons I'm going with her," John replied.

"What's the other?"

"If she runs into any kind of trouble, she'll need help."

Rally paused. "You really that good?"

"Yes, Rally. I am. SPARTANs are trained to fight against these kinds of odds, and win. I've faced worse."

Rally didn't like it. The displeasure was evident on his face. "Take me with you."

"Can't, and you know why. Sharon's setting an inhuman pace and you won't keep up."

"Hey I'm in damn good shape…"

"AND you've got a bad arm! Rally, I'm no good at being subtle, so I'll be blunt. You're a liability," the Chief continued, noticing Anders walking up behind them. "You can't fire any kind of weapon that's good against a Centurion. Which means someone's going to have to watch your ass, instead of their own, and that could me or Sharon killed."

Rally looked like he was ready to explode, but the Chief went on. "You shouldn't even help _Anders_ with this attack. You'd just be an extra body for the Cylons to shoot at when his force hits the asylum. And either he, Morris, or somebody else will also have to keep an eye on you when they need to focus on smashing toasters."

A tear welled in the guerrilla's eye. The Chief forced himself to finish. "I know Sue-Shaun means a lot to you. She means a lot to everyone in your group. But you won't do her any favors if you get yourself, or somebody else, killed."

Anders interrupted at that point. "Actually, Rally, I think there is something you can do. Someone has to get back to the high school, let them know what we're doing, that we'll be coming back in a heavy raider."

"So now I'm jest an errand boy?" the Pyramid player replied bitterly.

"No, it's not just that." Anders lowered his voice. "Chances are, this plan isn't going to work. It's a long shot, you know that. And if that's the case, none of us, me, Helo, the Chief, Morris, _none_ of us are coming back. Which means you'll have to be in charge. You'll be the last of our group with any kind of military experience, Rally. And our people are going to need you."

Rally took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Okay, Sam. You're the boss." He wandered into the forest, sitting down heavily in front of a tree.

The Chief watched him go. "Fuck," he muttered.

"Huh?" Anders asked, confused.

"Frack," the Chief answered, then paused before continuing. "I hated doing that. He's a good man. Loyal to his friends."

"One of the best. That's why we kept him on the team last year. Don't feel bad, Chief. I was going to tell him exactly what you just said anyway. Then I'd be feeling like a son of a bitch, not you. When you going to start?"

"When Sharon wants to leave."

A few minutes later, Sharon and Helo emerged from the woods where they had been talking. Sharon gave Helo a quick hug, which the big pilot returned somewhat awkwardly. The guerrillas almost universally grimaced at the sight.

"You ready?" She asked, walking up to the Chief.

"I'm always ready," he replied.

They headed off into the woods at a run, heading east. Sprinting towards the enemy.

Sprinting towards their salvation.


	10. Part X: The Carnage

**Part X: The Carnage**

_2 hours running hard. 5 hours to go. No sweat._

The Chief was sprinting through the woods, right behind Sharon. They were bounding over the terrain, never pausing, never stopping, just a straight shot eastward. They ran up a hill, Sharon running around a large log.

The Chief hurtled over it.

Now Sharon did stop. After a few steps, the Chief noticed the Cylon was staring at him, wide-eyed in fear. The anxiety made her words harsh.

"How are you doing this? No human could keep up this pace!" she said.

"I'm not just a human. I'm a SPARTAN-II super soldier."

"A what?"

"A super soldier. I've been genetically engineered to be the greatest warrior humanity has to offer. A run like this is basic exercise. My suit is shielded, I have enhanced strength, perfect eyesight, the works."

"Colonial Fleet has no such program in its…"

"Never said I was a Colonial."

Sharon's jaw dropped. "That's…not…how the frack can you claim to be human yet be an alien at the same time?"

"Ever consider that there may be other humans out there besides those on the 12 colonies?" The Chief resumed running.

Now it was Sharon's turn to follow behind. She spoke between breaths. "Why… are you helping…these people? The Cylons…aren't at war…with you."

"3 reasons, 1…you Cylons were…stupid enough…to take potshots at me. 2…I don't like… mass murderers."

Sharon didn't respond, but the reply clearly angered her. "What's…the third?"

"They'll help me…get back home."

"Where's that?"

"Sorry…not telling you…just yet."

Sharon let the matter drop, knowing the Chief didn't fully trust her. They ran on in silence, over hills, through the forests, through the valleys, on and on, no stopping, no resting, no eating, no talking.

For 3 more hours they ran. Sharon's estimate was accurate; they were finally in the hills surrounding the spaceport, the hills where the Chief had encountered the Cylons for the first time. Anders' men were already on their way to the asylum. They had 2 hours to steal the heavy raider.

_2 hours to take out 80-odd robots._ They both crouched as they approached the crest of a hill to the west, the same hill the Chief had stood on before he was forced to run into the city 5 days ago.

"Cortana," he whispered, "look through my helmet recordings 5 days ago…"

"Your visuals of the base?" she inquired.

"Yeah. I want you to construct map for me, with the locations of buildings, Centurions, everything. Then create a tactical plan for us, telling me the specifics. I'm going to sketch it for Sharon on the ground."

"On it… I should be done in 2.5 minutes. Could you do a lady a favor, and get a quick scan of the airport now, so I know the data is still accurate?" He felt her smile again.

The Chief and his companion crawled up to the crest, keeping their heads down. Both scanned the scene below.

It was pretty much what the Chief remembered. Centurion patrols walking the perimeter at each point of the compass, two lines of Raiders along an airstrip, and a heavily guarded control tower. John gave everything a once over, then turned to his companion.

"Pretty much what you were expecting?" he asked.

"Yes. I don't see the heavy raider though."

"It was in the lone hangar to the north. I saw a wing of it, then tried to move from here to the south to get a better viewing angle. Your brethren spotted me and I had to hightail it out."

Sharon squinted. "How can you tell at this distance?"

"Helmet zoom." The Chief placed his hand on his helmet, activating the zoom as he spoke. "It's still there," he said after a moment. Then he switched his attention to a building in the southeast corner of the spaceport. "There's a building over there, 4 stories high," he pointed as he spoke, "where I saw a lot of humanoids enter, exit, and congregate out front. Is that some kind of command center?"

Sharon watched the building for several seconds. "It's the Nexus." She replied.

"What's that?"

"It's…a communications hub, where we…the humanoid models interface with the Network there. Keeps them informed of what's going on around the planet, where they send and receive orders."

"I take it you people don't use a satellite dish for this."

Sharon didn't reply, clearly uncomfortable about the subject. _Almost like she wants to be human, just so she could be with Helo, Starbuck and the others_.

"Adding new information to the layout Chief," Cortana chimed in. "Ready to give you the specifics. It's another Cortana specialty. Got a paintbrush handy?"

"Come on," the Chief said to Sharon, "I've got a plan." He beckoned to her and they retreated down the crest, keeping the hill between them and the spaceport.

"You came up with a plan already?" the Cylon asked.

"Been thinking it up since we were running here," the Chief lied. "Had to see if the Centurions were still in the same spots." He paused, gathering up a collection of rocks and a long stick, and whispered to Cortana, "Okay, go ahead."

He drew the perimeter of the spaceport, laying a large rock on the western edge to signify the control tower, and a smaller rock in the southeast corner for the Nexus building. He placed an oddly colored rock in the north for the heavy raider's hangar, then a series of small rocks on the eastern edge signifying a series of smaller hangars. Finally, he scratched two lines of dirt in the middle, heading past the Nexus, to signify the airstrip.

Cortana outlined her scheme. The Chief repeated the instructions for Sharon. "Okay, there are 4 sets of Centurion patrols, each of 7 models, at each point of the compass, moving back and forth." He pointed with the stick north, south, east, and west. "Two Centurions guard each entrance to the heavy raider's hangar, the control tower, and the Nexus building. 4 pairs of Centurions keep watch from the roofs, 2 on the control tower, 2 on the Nexus. That leaves a set of 14 Centurions marching in two lines waiting by the airstrip, led by the blonde Cylon model…"

"A Number Six, waiting with her troop for a heavy raider transport, we typically line them up an hour in advance," Sharon interrupted. "There's supposed to be about 80 Centurions here."

"There would be robots within the tower and Nexus."

"Yes, but not enough to cover the difference. I think they've taken some models out of the spaceport. My guess is they're either looking for you or reinforcing patrols looking for the Resistance."

"Makes our job easier. Most of your brethren appear to be around this Nexus. So, here's the plan." He pointed to a spot west of the spaceport, north of where they were positioned now. "I want you to wait here. I'm going to put myself here," he pointed to the southern edge of the base. "There's another forested hill, I'm going to lay down on it and snipe. Probably fire at these lines of Centurions first. From that angle, I might get multiple kills with one shot…"

"What?! What the frack does that rifle fire?!"

"This is a Sniper Rifle System Model 99D-S2-AM. It fires armor-piercing fin-stabilized discarding sabot rounds, and the bullets are over 5 inches long. I've seen it go through 3 targets in one shot. The Centurions' armor is thin, it doesn't even protect against rounds from an MA5C assault rifle I use."

Sharon's mouth was still hung open in shock.

"Moving on. I'll fire 4 shots at the group waiting for a transport, then move behind the hills, along this ravine, to a position southeast of the Nexus. The Centurion patrols will be drawn away from their positions towards the hill but I'll be long gone by the time they get there. There's a patch of woods by the Nexus, I'll use it for cover, sneak up on the entrance, and assault the building. That should tie down any humanoid models there. Meanwhile, after the base security is alerted by my fire, wait 2 minutes, then head for the heavy raider's position. How fast can you power up the ship once you get past the 2 guards?"

"2, maybe 3 minutes. I'll have to…hack into it. What about the raiders on the strip?"

"That's why I'm assaulting the Nexus. The models there shouldn't be able to escape to pilot the fighters if they're all dead. I'll eliminate…"

"No, you don't understand. The raiders _themselves_ are machines, self-piloted. They don't need a centurion or…humanoid."

The Chief paused as Cortana digested this information. "Will they need a signal from the Nexus to activate?"

"Yes."

"Then I have to hit the place anyway. I'll come in through one of the windows away from the guards, and kill anything I find inside. From there I'll make my way to the roof, and provide sniper cover for anyone attempting to interfere with you stealing the raider. From there you can pick me up on the eastern edge of the base."

"Humanoids are stronger, faster, and more durable than…actual humans."

"I doubt they're stronger than me, and I'm armed, they're usually not. My suit is also equipped with rechargeable shields. Any more objections? No? Alright, once I'm onboard we head south for about 20 minutes, luring any raider pursuit in that direction. There's a large gully we can land in, we power down, wait 15 minutes for the fighters to pass over, then power up and head for the asylum. We arrive just as Anders is crossing the field there. Questions?"

Sharon said nothing, still not convinced the Chief was capable of pulling this off.

"Alright, wait till I fire, then move in fast. You know better then to run, but a brisk pace couldn't hurt. I'll see you in about an hour." With that, he rose and moved southward. He took the long way around, always keeping the hills between himself and the spaceport to avoid being spotted. But even at the running pace he set, it still took nearly 45 minutes for him to get into position.

Wherever the transport was, it hadn't arrived yet. The troop of Centurions was still waiting in two lines with the Number Six at their head. He crawled, slowly, as he'd been trained, up the rise, selecting a large bush to lie prone in. He unlimbered the rifle, resting the bipod on a rock, and set the stock against his shoulder. He chambered a round, and eyed his targets through the scope. His zoomed in on the lead robot in the rear rank, and took a breath.

_One shot, one kill_.

One shot in fact turned into 5 kills. The first round ripped straight through the first Centurion's torso, boring a large hole, and did the same for the second, third, and fourth robot in line, before burying itself in the chest of the fifth machine, which also toppled in a heap. The Chief quickly shifted aim, and fired at the front rank of robots, which didn't even have half a second to react before another shot decimated their ranks as well. The Number Six turned around, staring stunned at the destruction behind her for all of 2 seconds before the third shot blew a hole in her head, scattering brains across the tarmac.

The Chief's final round felled another Centurion in the decimated group. Other machines around the base quickly turned and sprinted towards his sniper spot, while those atop the Nexus and control tower behind raking the hill with fire. The rifle had left a smoking trail with every shot, so the Cylons had a fairly good idea of where the Chief was when he fired.

Which was exactly what he wanted.

The shots had been fired in 5 seconds. 10 seconds after the initial round the Chief was already bounding down the hill, reloading the rifle as he ran. He was in the gully and away, sprinting along the ravine, as Cortana had planned. A siren sounded on the field, and by now Sharon was making her way across the tarmac to the heavy raider's hangar.

_I hope_.

"11 kills in 4 shots Chief. I think that's a record for a SPARTAN-II." Cortana chimed. "Keep moving at this pace along the ravine. I've put up a waypoint on your HUD for the woods near the Nexus. You should be in position in 2 minutes."

As Cortana had planned, the Cylon patrols surrounding the base had all converged on the hill to the south. Sharon now had a clear run to the hangar.

And the Chief had a clear run to the Nexus. He approached through the woods, careful to keep out of sight of the Centurion guards, who fortunately were all staring at his sniping location. A trio of humanoids was also out front, a Number Six, the brunette male model, and one of Sharon's twins. All were looking at the southern hill as well. The Chief slipped past behind their backs and sidled up to an open window on the eastern side of the building, and climbed through.

He was inside, and the Cylons hadn't seen him. He readied his shotgun, approached the door to the room, and broke it open with a kick. A blonde man on the other side reacted in shock.

"Hi," the Chief said, and fired into the man's chest. The Cylon flew backward against the wall, leaving a red smear as he slid to the ground. A Number Six, hearing the noise, appeared from a doorway to the Chief's left; she was felled with the second blast. His shields flared as a round struck him full in the back; a Sharon model had fired a pistol at him. The humanoid's eyes widened when she saw the Chief was unaffected; she fired one more bullet before the SPARTAN killed her with a third blast.

He moved to another door on his right and kicked it in. Within the room were 2 more Cylons, both brunette males. Both stared in shock as the green armored warrior slew them with his shotgun.

His shields flared again, dropping to 70 percent. The two Centurion guards from the entrance had appeared in the main hallway and were shooting at him. He twisted and fired, chopping one machine in half before he dove through the doorway he had just demolished. The shotgun was empty; he heard the clanking approach of the machine as he reloaded 6 shells. When it appeared in the doorway he fired again, decapitating the robot.

He became a living engine of destruction. Like the deadly machines he was fighting he methodically moved from room to room, kicking open each door down the hallway where his sensors registered contacts, eliminating any Cylons he found within or appearing in the corridor. He was following a program, _kick, sweep left, sweep right, destroy any targets of opportunity_, over and over with the same script.

In his wake he left shells, wrecked metal, and blood. The 4 Centurions from the roof joined their brothers as wrecks when they appeared in a stairwell at the end of the hall, disintegrated by a grenade he tossed at their feet. A dozen humanoids lay strewn behind him, the bodies chewed up by buckshot. By the time he reached a set of double doors at the end of the corridor, which only took him 45 seconds, the first floor was an abattoir.

Behind the doorway was something which he had never seen before. The room was bathed in white light, with a series of panels running down the center. Multitudes of red wires connected to the panels and ran about the middle. The harsh metal walls formed an eerie contrast between the soft white glow and the crimson colors within. A Number Six in black was pressing her hand against a panel, seemingly lost in thought while another Sharon stood to her left doing the same.

Two blonde male models were also in the room. These shouted in alarm and fired pistols at the Chief, causing his shields to flare. In return the Chief coolly killed them both with his firearm, before turning the M90 against the two female Cylons. Neither made a sound as the Chief shot them.

"79 percent chance this is a communications hub Chief. Recommend you demolish it." Cortana advised.

"How?" John replied.

"Shotgun blasts, or old-fashioned bludgeoning should do it."

Systematically he fired a shell into each panel, then smashed it twice with the butt of his weapon. The red wiring in each panel flickered and died, and finally the soft white light was cut off as well. The remaining illumination came from the open doorway. A clanking sound emanated from it.

The Chief reloaded his shotgun and approached the aperture, crouched by the side and peered out. Centurions were entering the building from the far hall, how many he couldn't say, but his scanners showed at least 7, with more probably incoming. He rose from his crouch and fired, winging the lead robot in the shoulder, but it still came on.

The robots fired at him in return and he dove into a nearby stairwell, coming to a crouch against a wall. He leaned out and fired the M90 again, this time scoring a hit in the torso of a Centurion and felling it. The other machines fanned out into the doorways on either side of the hall, alternately leaning out and firing before ducking into cover.

"Can't get out this way Chief. Head up the stairs, all the way to the roof." Cortana commanded.

He sprinted up the stairwell, taking the steps 2 at a time. The entrance to the roof was open; the Centurions in their haste neglected to close it when they ran down to the first floor. He slammed the door shut when he reached the top. Outside was a large metal machine resembling an old air-conditioner; this he ripped out from it's. He wedged the metal box in front of the roof door to form a barricade, and braced it with some of the piping. It wouldn't hold for long, but hopefully the robots below would fan out and search the lower stories first.

He crouched on the roof, drew his sniper rifle and made his way to the northeast corner of the building. The Chief zoomed in across the tarmac to the heavy raider's hangar. The bodies of two dead Centurions were sprawled in front, along with a brown-haired male Cylon. _Sharon must have walked right up and shot them_.

Unfortunately a group of 4 Centurions was heading for the hangar.

"Cortana, estimated time left for Sharon to activate the heavy raider?"

"3 minutes Chief, assuming she followed the plan. The Centurions will reach the hangar before then."

He sighted the weapon on the lead robot, took a breath, and fired. The remaining robots spun, scattering across the airstrip, but there was no cover. He took his time, aiming at each machine, holding his breath, pulling the trigger. _4 shots, 4 kills. 24 seconds._

The air snapped as bullets whizzed by his head. He turned. The Centurions on the control tower were firing at him, but at this distance the rounds weren't very accurate. He reloaded the clip in the rifle, and sighted in on a machine. Again, he held his breath, and fired. One Centurion down. He zoomed in on another robot and took another breath. Another Centurion down.

He scanned the tower left and right for the second pair of guards. _Nothing. They've gone to ground._ He turned his attention back toward the northern hangar. The raiders along the airstrip were motionless; he'd succeeded in preventing their activation.

Another minute went by. He noticed a flicker of movement from the hangars.

One, then another raider flew out from beneath them.

"Looks like they managed to activate a couple of fighters Chief." Cortana noted grimly.

The fighters were moving slowly but still gaining speed. He aimed at the lead fighter and fired, clipping it in the wing. He fired again, this time scoring a direct hit. The machine turned onto its side and dove, pancaking into the earth.

A sound of smashing metal sounded behind him. The Centurions were battering through the barricade. He slung the rifle on his back and readied his shotgun. Seven Centurions burst onto the rooftop; he couldn't possibly kill them all. The Chief fired, the robots fired back and he ducked, then he looked over his shoulder at the fighter.

It was passing below the Nexus roof, still gaining speed. He paused as a round struck the ground near his foot and placed the shotgun on his back. Then, in a flash, he leaped off the roof.

"John, you crazy…!" Cortana yelled.

MJOLNIR armor would have prevented him from being harmed from the drop. But the Chief was not trying to fall to the ground below. He timed his fall so as to pass by the raider just as it accelerated past the building. Miraculously, he caught hold of its port wing, digging in with his fingertips as he hung on for dear life.

The fighter dipped left slightly, then adjusted for his weight before resuming level flight. The machine realized he was there and accelerated, banking right in a high-g turn and shooting high into the sky, trying to peel him off. He pulled himself up onto the wing a little, holding on now with his right elbow and forearm.

The weight was too much. The force of the turn and the SPARTAN's extra half ton bent the raiders wing, slightly tearing it. The fighter went into a tailspin, turning crazily in a clock-wise motion as it dove towards the tarmac. The Chief was thrown off, falling, he didn't know how much but it was far, with a thud to the ground. The raider continued to spin but couldn't regain control and crashed, taking out a line of its brethren dispersed on one side of the airstrip.

The Chief was dazed. Everything was a blur, his hands, his senses. He could here nothing, see little but white light. Time seemed to slow. Words…thoughts…formed slowly in his mind. He was aware he was lying on his back. A voice spoke in his ear.

"John…John…John…" it said repeating over and over. He could see a figure appear over his head. It was female, she was beautiful and bathed in white. The voice seemed to be hers. The voice of his friend, his companion.

"C..Cortana?" he said aloud.

He felt himself being lifted up, closer to the being's face.

He blinked. Things snapped into focus. "John, wake up!" Cortana pleaded.

The woman was the Cylon Number Six, this time dressed in white. She leaned forward, and clasped his helmet with both hands. "Are you alive?" She asked.

His arms were tightly held by another Sharon and a male brunette.

"Are you?" He replied.

The male struck him on the back of the head. "You've done a lot of damage here today, you freak."

"This thing is not human. It can't be." The Asian Cylon said.

"Yet it helps them. It is an enemy of god." The blonde replied.

"Perhaps it doesn't know of their crimes. It's spent much time with them."

"No crime justifies genocide." The Chief spoke.

"The sins of humanity justify their extinction," the blonde woman replied. "We carry out god's will. We are humanity's children, and all children, in time, replace their parents. Who are _you_ to stand in the way of destiny?"

"Let's kill this creature and be done with it." The brunette said.

"Not until we find out more about it!" The Sharon copy argued.

"What _am_ I?" The Chief interrupted. "I am a warrior who has defied gods and demons. I am humanity's shield; I am its sword. I have killed _thousands_ of enemies who stood in my way. And _you_? You're just next in line!"

With a grunt he twisted his arms and grabbed the forearms of the Cylons holding him. The Chief slammed the bodies of the two humanoids together, stunning them and causing them to crumple to the tarmac. The Six threw a punch, he deflected it and tripped her with a kick. He sprang upon the humanoid and caught its head between his hands; with a cruel twist, he snapped the woman's neck. Then he grabbed the shotgun from his back, pointed in at the still dazed Cylons, and fired twice.

Several clicking noises made him look behind. There, in a line, were 7 Centurions, all pointing their arm cannons at his head. He pointed his shotgun and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, empty.

_I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. This is it_. The Centurions opened fire. Round after round struck him. His shields dropped, and he fell to the pavement.

"Cortana, it's been an…"

The whine of an engine roared overhead. A heavy raider appeared, pointing its weapon downward at the robots. With a roar, the 6 Gatling guns opened fire, spewing hundreds of rounds into the machines in a few seconds. Desperately the Centurions aimed upward trying to forestall their fate, but to no avail. The craft reduced them to scrap metal.

_Thank you, Sharon._

The large ship turned, and lowered to the ground, opening up a bay door in its rear. The Chief leaped aboard, and pounded his fist against the metal wall, yelling "Go!" The bay door closed, and he felt the craft accelerate upward.

"Sharon?" he said aloud, looking around the bay as he approached what appeared to be a door. He pushed against it, and slowly it opened.

What he saw beyond was gruesome.

The ship was _alive_. There, in what would normally be a cockpit, sat Sharon with her eyes closed, a set of wires attached to her left arm. She sat next to a large, pulsating brown organ, the wires connecting from the Cylon to the ship's…he didn't know what it was.

"Fascinating…" Cortana chimed, "this ship isn't a spacecraft at all, it's a cybernetic organism! The organ Sharon is plugged into is some kind of controlling nerve center, much like a brain! The UNSC doesn't have biotechnology approaching _anything_ this complex!"

"Perhaps it's because we find things like this disgusting," the Chief whispered in reply. "Sharon," he said, raising his voice, "Head for the gully."

"Already on it," the Cylon said, opening her eyes.

"Thanks for the save."

"You're welcome."

He paused, deep in thought, then spoke again.

"No really, I owe you one. I want you to know that. You could have let me die, you didn't."

"Thanks, but your point?"

"The Colonials still won't trust you after this. You know that. And I want you to know, you won't get any problems from me."

The Cylon nodded.

"What are you thinking, Chief?" Cortana asked, not in rebuke, but in curiosity.

"She could have just left with the ship, Cortana. No one would have known the difference, she could have told them the Cylons killed me. She didn't. She saved me. I think Helo was right, back at the museum. She _is_ different."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

They flew down upon the Asylum from the southwest, low over the treetops. The Chief looked through what Sharon said was the Cylon ship's visor.

Anders and the Resistance group were attacking the asylum. They were engaged in a firefight with a group of 5 Centurions on the hospital grounds. Trapped in between was a blonde woman, lying on the ground, who looked like…

"Starbuck!" the Chief exclaimed. "She's trapped in between! Sharon, fire the chain-guns at the Centurions! Walk the fire down from the entrance to the front gate!"

Sharon did as the Chief instructed. 10 seconds of concentrated fire later and the Centurions were nothing but piles of scrap. Sharon turned the heavy raider, landing so that the bay door faced the Resistance members still in the field. She quickly unplugged herself and ran down to the opening with the Chief.

"Come on!" she yelled. "Let's move like you got a purpose people! Go go go go!" She waved them into the bay. Anders and Helo dragged Starbuck into the ship, carrying her by the arms as she bravely tried to walk.

Sue-Shaun was missing. "Where's Sue-Shaun?" the Chief asked.

It was Thrace who spoke, grimacing and fighting back tears. "She's dead…Chief. Gods, she's dead." Her voice broke and she sobbed slightly.

The Chief turned back to Sharon. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Sharon returned to the cockpit, closing the door behind her. The heavy raider lifted off when everyone was aboard, and headed back toward the high school, flying scant yards above the trees.

The Chief could only think of one thing.

_God, how the hell am I going to tell Rally?_


	11. Part XI: The Aftermath

**Part XI The Aftermath**

The craft approached a large courtyard south of the high school. The Resistance members still in the base streamed out, anxious to see their friends. The Chief left the cockpit and descended to the bay. He felt the craft touch down, and looked at the scene before him as the door opened.

Rally was there, at the front of the small group outside, anxiously peering into the gloom of the bay. Anders stood up and came to the Chief's side.

"I'll tell him," John said.

"No," Sam replied, "that's my job. I'm the head of this group, and the leader always tells his people bad news." The guerrilla took a deep breath as he spoke. He wasn't looking forward to this. The Chief also saw he was holding back tears.

Helo helped Starbuck up from a makeshift seat against the bulkhead; the Cylons had designed the heavy raider without any kind of seating arrangement for their Centurions. The female pilot grimaced as she stood; the Chief went back to the pair and took hold of Thrace's left arm. "Easy does it," he said.

"How'd you…manage to steal this thing?" the pilot asked, struggling to stand.

"Sharon and I hit the airbase at Delphi. She hacked into the ship, I provided a… distraction."

"How?"

"What I usually do. Shot my way in."

"How many you take out?" Helo asked.

"40," Cortana chimed. The Chief repeated the number after they had stepped out of the bay. Starbuck nearly stumbled in shock; Helo and the other Resistance members who overheard the conversation gaped. Some distanced themselves in reflexive fear.

The Chief didn't reply, didn't want to really, because he was used to the response. _Hell, it's what I do for a living. I get the same reactions from UNSC personnel. These Colonials aren't all that different_.

He turned and looked at Anders. The Pyramid player was talking to Rally, holding the man by both his shoulders and shaking his head. Rally's eyes teared-up, then he gave an animal cry of anguish and held his head in his good hand. Anders comforted the man, tears rolling down his own face as well.

The two pilots and the Chief looked at the scene for a few moments. Sharon approached behind, also looking at the tableau. "Come on, let's get you into some clothes," Helo said to Thrace. The pilot nodded in return, then looked over her shoulder at the Cylon behind. "You and I are going to talk," she growled, "later."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"They were conducting research into human-Cylon breeding programs," the Cylon replied.

The two pilots, Sharon, and the Chief were standing by Starbuck's truck, or rather, Thrace was sitting and the others were standing. She was still weak from her ordeal at the Farm.

"Human-Cylon?" Kara returned, glaring at Sharon.

"They call them farms," Helo answered, unwrapping a series of bandages on Starbuck's stomach. The pilot winced in pain. "Gunshot wound looks fine," Agathon concluded.

"So farms, that's great," Thrace said, glowering at Sharon once more. "What were they gonna do, knock me up with some Cylon kid?"

"They were going to try to," Sharon responded. "We haven't been very successful so far."

Anders walked over and spoke. "_Supposedly_ they can't reproduce, you know, _biologically._" He too glared at the Cylon. "So they've been trying every which way to produce offspring."

"Why?" Starbuck asked.

"Procreation. It's one of god's commandments. Be fruitful."

"Commandments?" Cortana chimed. "Interesting. The Cylon religion may have some similarities with Judaism, which would make the Colonials, from their point of view, the equivalent of Gentiles."

Now even Helo was staring intently at his lover. _Probably wondering where he fits in with the whole mess._

"We can't fulfill it, we've tried," Sharon continued. "So we decided…"

"To _rape_ human women." Starbuck finished for her, smiling in disgust.

"You know, this attack makes less and less sense," the Chief spoke up. "You people nuke 12 worlds, try to exterminate every human you can get your hands on, then turn around and use any women you can find like lab rats? For what, this god's will? Bullshit."

Sharon glared at the Chief now. "We do as god ordains."

The Chief moved to stand in front of the Cylon, towering over her and lowering his helmet to be inches away from her face. She reflexively drew back. "I fought a war for _27 years_ against a collection of species who tried to wipe out my people, not for glory, not for fame, not because we attacked or provoked them in _any way_, but because 'it was the will of the gods!' In truth, it was their _leaders_ who wanted us out of the way!" He took a step back and gathered himself. "Religion has _nothing_ to do with it except whipping up the troops. It wasn't god's will that nuked the Colonies. It was your own."

He moved off, turning his back to the rest. The humans looked at his back and were silent, unsure of what to make of the Chief's outburst.

"Getting a little testy, John?" Cortana asked.

She wasn't mocking him. He knew her well enough to know that she was concerned, not making fun. "27 years of nonstop fighting Cortana," he whispered, "against the Covenant, against a religious conviction that Humanity's extinction was ordained. Now I find that all the way out here, light years from home, more humans face the same threat for the same reasons. The players may have changed but the game is the same."

"Not all the players are different, John."

Sharon, shaken, took a breath and spoke to Starbuck, her voice quavering slightly. "You know, if you agree to bear children, it'd be voluntary, maybe even set you up with someone you like."

Thrace was ready to break down. She frowned, then smiled, and on the verge of tears replied sardonically "Like you two kids?" She stood up as she spoke.

"We're different," the Cylon responded, looking at Helo.

Now any hint of a grin was gone from Thrace's face. "What the _frack _is that supposed to mean?"

"They… have this theory," Agathon answered, "maybe the one thing they were missing was love." Starbuck shook her head, looking back and forth between the two. "So Sharon and I," Helo continued, "were set up…"

"To fall in love?" Starbuck finished the sentence again, smiling again in disbelief. Then the grin disappeared and she stood face to face with the Cylon, yelling "They didn't _ask_ Sue-Shaun if she wanted to fall in love, alright?! They put a tube in her, and they _hooked_ her up to a _machine_!" Helo pulled Starbuck back as she finished, trying to get her to relax against the side of the vehicle.

Sharon looked away for a moment then approached Thrace. "They know who you are, Kara," she said as the pilot glared at her. "You're special, Leoben told you that. You have a destiny."

"Who's Leoben?" The Chief said, turning around.

"A Cylon I interrogated back with the fleet," Thrace said, still staring daggers at Sharon. Then she turned and looked at the SPARTAN. "He's that blonde male model you saw at the spaceport."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I shot 4 copies of him with a shotgun. He died bloody, messy, and painful."

A small laugh escaped Starbuck's lips, but it was without humor. "Thanks," she replied.

Helo was still examining the bandages, then noticed something further down Kara's pelvis. "Starbuck, what's this second scar?" he asked.

"I don't know," the pilot replied, then turned to Sharon. "I don't think I want to know now." She zipped up her jacket. "You know?" she asked the Cylon.

"No," was the reply. Thrace obviously didn't believe it.

"Alright how many women do they have at these…farms?" Anders asked.

"Hundreds, maybe thousands." Sharon responded. Anders looked away in disgust, walking away a few steps. "I don't know, I haven't accessed that data."

Starbuck walked up behind her lover. "Here's what we do," she said, "take the heavy raider, cram it full of ground troops, find out where the next farm is, liberate it, then the next, and the next, and the next…"

Anders shook his head and interrupted. "No, no, that's not why you came to Caprica."

He walked over to a set of barrels. Starbuck and the Chief followed, leaving Helo and Sharon to talk. The Chief noticed they were hugging after a few moments.

Sam moved one barrel, then reached into a stagnant pool of water the container had been covering. He withdrew a long black carrying case, and pulled out the Arrow of Apollo. He took a deep breath, then smiled, handing the object to Thrace, who returned his grin. "Go find Earth," Anders said, "go find his home." He pointed to the Chief as he finished.

"What about you?" Starbuck spoke. "You said you needed professional advice."

Sam half-smiled and replied "We'll muddle through. We've managed so far."

"They'll kill you." Now the smile was gone from Kara's face. "You'll die here, you know that."

"Lot of people died here. I'll tell you this, if I'm gonna die here, I'm gonna take out every last one of those fracking farms before I do."

Thrace was on the verge of tears again. "I'm not gonna leave you here."

The Chief remained silent, knowing better than to interrupt the two. Anders looked down, then spoke, his voice breaking slightly. "Said you were gonna come back, remember? I'm gonna hold you to it." There was a pause as the two looked at each other, then Starbuck removed a metal tag from around her neck and handed it to Sam. He grabbed hold of her hand and kissed it as Kara fought back tears.

She drew closer, placing a hand behind his head. "I'm coming back. I said it. I meant it."

Anders nodded his head. "Yeah, okay," he whispered. Starbuck turned away, grabbing hold of the Arrow's container, but Sam still held her hand, holding her back for a moment. "Hey," he said, "be safe."

The pilot grinned, halfway to tears still, and cocked her head. "Sam," the Chief spoke up, "Where's Rally? I want to talk to him."

"He's at the firing range."

The Chief turned back to the two pilots and their Cylon counterpart. "Hey, can you do me a favor and start loading my stuff onto the heavy raider? It's in the food storage room."

"Sure," Thrace replied, walking past. "Let's go home." She said to the others.

The Chief left the open courtyard, taking a shortcut through a classroom building to a large gymnasium. Within, the Resistance had set up a firing range, the walls serving to dampen the noise the weapons made as they were used. Rally was inside, holding a pistol with his right hand and firing at a target 40 meters away. His left arm was still in a sling and he wasn't having much success.

"Move your thumb further down the grip," the Chief said.

Rally glanced at him with one eye, and adjusted his hold. "Thanks," he replied, and fired 2 more shots. The accuracy was better, but still poor. What concerned the Chief most though was that Rally hadn't even smiled, no even a trace of humor was evident on the man's face. The Pyramid player's visage was set in a stony glare.

"Y'all be leavin' soon?" The guerrilla asked, firing another shot.

"Yeah. Came to say goodbye."

"Well, goodbye." The Resistance fighter fired another shot.

The Chief said nothing for a few moments, watching his friend bear down on the target, almost willing the bullets to strike the center of the bulleye. _He blames himself_.

"What happened to Sue-Shaun is not your fault."

"Yeah, it's the Cylons' fault. Frackin' right on that count." Another shot. "I _should'a_ gone back, checked to see she made it out. Should'a gone with Sam to the asylum! Should'a torn those metal motherfrackers to junk! Should'a…"

"Not gotten hit? Turned around and commanded the Centurions not to shoot? Maybe tell them to leave Sue-Shaun alone?" The Chief countered. The guerrilla glared at him for a second and resumed firing. "Rally, things like this happen in war. People die…"

"You think I don't know that?!" The man yelled, emptying his clip as he spoke. He pulled the trigger several times again after the gun clicked empty, then put the pistol down and hung his head.

"You can't control what happens out there Rally, who gets hit or why. It's not up to you. It's not up to me. It's not up to Sam, or Starbuck, or anyone. All you can do is do it right by your people, keep those who are alive breathing as long as you can."

"For what, huh? Why? Cylons are gonna kill us all eventually. All we can do is take as many of them with us as we can!"

"You think you'll do any good if you're _suicidal?_"

Rally awkwardly loaded another clip and resumed firing. "They've taken _everything_, Chief, my home, my family, now my best friend. What the _frack_ do I have to live for, huh? You gonna take me with you and go to Earth? Some other _crap_?"

Rally fired off a couple more rounds. The Chief said nothing for a minute, then spoke again. "Starbuck's ship is part of a refugee fleet. 50,000 survivors."

"I _know_ that."

"Have you considered your wife and daughter might have made it to one of the ships there?"

Rally glanced sideways before firing another shot. "You and I both know that the chances 'a them bein' on one of those ships is one in a million."

"It's better than nothing." John paused. "I'll make you a promise Rally." He waited for the man to look directly at him before continuing. "If you'd known me for a long time, you'd know what I'm about to tell you. When I make a promise, I keep it. I promise you, I'll get to the refugee fleet, and I'll find your family if they're there. Then I'll come back and get you, _if_ you make a promise for me in return."

"What?" Now the Pyramid player put down his gun.

"You stay alive."

Rally paused. "What you gonna do, persuade the fleet to invade the system again?"

"Starbuck said she was coming back for Sam and the rest of you. She doesn't seem like the type to make idle promises."

"She ain't I think."

"So she's coming back, and when she does, I'll be with her. So how about it?"

Rally looked at the Chief for a long moment, then held out his hand. "Alright."

The Chief grasped the hand and shook it, clasping his friend on the shoulder. The Pyramid player did likewise. "You take care of yourself," John said.

"Same to you, ya' big green sonovabitch."

"Still need a hand to help pack."

"Well, that's all I got to offer right now." Rally smiled a little, finally.

"It'll do. Your wife's name is Carli, and your daughter's is Kathleen, right?" Rally nodded. "What's their last name?"

"Jennison."

"Carli and Kathleen Jennison, got it. Hey, I know Rally's just a nickname. What's your real name, anyway?"

"A-rye-lee-nos. A-R-E-I-L-E-N-O-S. Gave my parents hell for it since I was 7, 'bout the time I started tellin' everyone to call me Rally."

"My full name is John-117. UNSC calls me Sierra-117 over the comm."

"Helluva lot more badass than Areilenos." Rally smiled again.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The heavy raider powered up a few seconds after Sharon stepped into the cockpit. Helo sat down heavily between the Chief's ration container and a bulkhead.

"Final inventory, Chief," Cortana spoke in his ear. "24 clips MA5C ammunition remaining, 87 M90 shells, 36 rounds SRS-99D-S2-AM, and 120 fifty-caliber rounds for the two M6G pistols, which you still haven't used by the way." He felt her smile as she finished.

"I'll figure something out," he whispered in return. Starbuck was standing by his side looking out the bay door as it began to close. Sam was outside, his hand raised in farewell. The Chief and Starbuck returned the gesture, Thrace holding back tears.

The bay closed, and he felt them lift off, climbing into the atmosphere, into space.

"You made him a promise. You'll keep it," the Chief spoke, turning to Starbuck.

The pilot looked at him and smiled slightly. "Heh. You know, I really don't get you Chief. You're a super-soldier, super-human really, yet you care more about us than you do about yourself."

"You get me well enough, Kara. It's what you said in your apartment, remember? We're both fighting because we don't know how to do anything else. Difference between us is, you had a choice to become what you are, I didn't. I've been _bred_ to look out for everyone. Especially my friends."

"You don't have many do you? Guess being a SPARTAN's hard on the social life."

"Yeah. And most of those I've made, I've lost." He was silent for awhile.

"Well, it's a long trip. Tell me about one of them." Starbuck sat down as she spoke.

The Chief paused, then did the same, sitting across the bay from the pilot. "There used to be a Sergeant Major in the UNSC Marines. Avery J. Johnson. Toughest bastard you could ever meet not wearing MJOLNIR armor. I first met him on a ship, the _Pillar of Autumn…_"


	12. Part XII: With Friends Like These

**Part XII: With Friends Like These…**

Starbuck finished her meal and put the ration down, then walked to the cockpit door. "Sharon should be about to make the final jump," she spoke. They all felt a sudden bump, which the Chief had learned signaled the ship was travelling faster than light again.

"You gonna contact the fleet on the radio?" Helo asked.

"Yeah. Figured it'd be easier if we delivered the Arrow to the President ourselves instead of having a salvage crew pick over wreckage for it."

"It's not a pretty sight beyond that door," the Chief said, "this ship is…"

"Alive?" Thrace replied. "I know Chief. Had to pilot one of this fracker's little brothers to get to Caprica remember?"

"Okay. Maybe you shouldn't have eaten first though."

Thrace smirked and glanced at the Chief before opening the door, then closed the cockpit behind them.

"I still can't believe we're traveling across space so fast!" Cortana exclaimed in the Chief's ear excitedly. "We've gone light years away from one planet to another in the span of a few hours, making only two of these 'jumps!' I _have _to study this technology! It could give us an incredible mobility advantage for short range intra-system travel!"

The Chief grinned beneath his helmet. Sometimes Cortana was like a kid in a toy store who had just been told they had 20 minutes to grab anything and everything they wanted. Tech always turned her crank. He let her drone on happily for a few moments, then a thought came to him.

"You thought about how we're going to handle this reunion?" John asked Agathon.

"Not really. Truth is I don't know what to expect."

"Expect 2 things, yelling and pointed guns."

"What?" The pilot's brow furrowed.

"Sharon's the enemy," the Chief said, hiking his thumb at the cockpit. "They'll realize that on sight and put her under arrest at best, _if _they don't shoot her. Then there's me. I'm not exactly the _least _intimidating thing you could see." Helo half-smiled as he continued. "You and Starbuck had better do a _lot _of talking before I, or especially Sharon, leave whatever docking bay we land in."

Helo frowned in thought for a few moments, then smiled slightly and spoke. "I thought your suit was shielded."

"It is. So yeah, they shoot me they're gonna regret it. But I'd like to avoid breaking my foot off in a Colonial's ass, if possible."

Helo grinned and shook his head as the cockpit door opened again. Thrace and Sharon emerged, the Cylon smiling at her lover. She grasped Helo lightly on the forearm, the touch loving, and pressed a button behind him. This opened the bay door.

"I'll go first, try and butter up the welcoming party," Starbuck said, smiling. Then she looked at Sharon and the humor disappeared from her face. "They're going to need it."

"Right, I'll get my things together, got a lot of stuff to move," John replied.

"Yeah, guess you'll need a hand with that," Helo replied. "Hey Sharon why don't you help…Sharon? Sharon?!"

The Cylon had left the bay as well and followed after Starbuck. "FRACK!" Agathon yelled, and quickly ran to a corner of the bay, grabbed his sidearm, and ran out again.

"Helo damnit get a hold of yourself don't go…" the Chief said as the pilot ran in front of him twice. "Ah, fuck it," he muttered under his breath.

"Estimate 77 percent probability Sharon will precipitate a confrontation Chief." Cortana chimed.

"No kidding," he replied, and grabbed the M90 and a pistol, the two nearest weapons, taking only a couple reloads for each. He hoped he wouldn't need to use them soon.

He ran a few steps down a dark corridor leading out of the bay, then slowed to walk when he heard voices ahead. He approached silently, not wanting anyone in the room down the hall to know he was near. He recognized Helo's voice first.

"Drop your weapon _sir_, drop your weapon!" Agathon demanded.

"Helo!" Starbuck yelled.

_Great, there's a standoff_, the Chief thought, stopping just outside a doorway leading to the next room. A woman's voice, one he'd never heard before, spoke next. "Gentleman I'm only going to say this once, Captain Adama and, what is your name?"

"Lt. Agathon," Helo responded, obviously the person in question.

"Used to be Sharon's ECO," a male voice spoke. "Thought you were dead, Helo. You a Cylon too?"

Helo muttered something the Chief couldn't make out. "Alright, here's what we're going to do," the unidentified woman said rapidly. "You're going to lower your weapons am I being perfectly _clear_?"

"What about Sharon?" Agathon demanded.

"She will be taken to a holding cell where she will remain _unharmed_."

"Okay," Helo replied, "how about it, Apollo? Should we do what the nice lady says?"

"She's the President of the Colonies you moron," the male voice, apparently this Apollo, answered. "And yes, we're gonna do _exactly_ what she says."

"Lower your weapons, _now._" the female voice said.

"The female is probably the President. Nice to know a woman's in charge." Cortana chimed.

He heard the sound of weapons being holstered.

"Thank you," the President said, then commanded "Now put that _thing _out the airlock."

_Shit_.

"_What?!_" Helo asked, incredulous.

"We don't keep _Cylons_ around here, Lieutenant," the President replied harshly.

"What the FRACK?! You said you weren't gonna hurt her!" Agathon shouted.

"No!" Sharon yelled. The Chief could hear her struggling.

"I think you should intervene, Chief," Cortana suggested.

"Damn right," he replied, and strode through the doorway. The other humans besides Starbuck and Helo were wide-eyed in astonishment at the colossus standing before them. "You've got about 10 seconds to let her go," the SPARTAN said calmly, pumping the action on his shotgun for emphasis, "or I'm gonna get nasty."

The armed men in the room all raised their weapons at him. _Huh, only one of them's military_, the Chief thought, looking at a brown haired male in another Colonial flight suit. Starbuck jumped in between him and the others, palms up. "Wait! Hold your fire!" she yelled.

Sharon used the distraction provided by the Chief to free herself from her two captors, smacking their heads together. The two men crumpled in a heap, but another guard turned his firearm towards her. "Sharon, don't move," the Chief commanded. The guard held his fire.

"Lt. Thrace, _what…_ is that thing?" the President asked, her voice hoarse in fear.

"I'm not a thing, I'm a SPARTAN…" the Chief began.

"Chief, let me do the talking," Thrace interjected quickly.

"Fine," he replied, and leaned against the doorway, his gun still pointed towards the deck.

"There any reason why you're resting against the bulkhead?" Cortana chirped in his ear. "You've got 6 weapons pointed at your head, and I estimate a 98.8 percent probability you'll be unable to prevent the guards from killing Sharon."

"Appearances. You and I both know they're not a threat. I'd like to appear unconcerned, might lower the tension a little," he whispered in reply.

"So instead of a knife we cut the tension with a sword?" He felt her smile again. The tone was approving.

"Chief?" the Colonial in the flight suit asked, puzzled.

"That's his rank Apollo," Thrace responded, her voice deadly serious. "This is a SPARTAN super soldier, his full rank is Master Chief Petty Officer."

"Captain Apollo," the President interjected, "does the Colonial Fleet have any…kind of soldier like this that I was not informed about?"

"No ma'am." Apollo answered, his weapon still pointed at the Chief, then turned to Starbuck and growled "You're calling this Cylon by its _rank_?"

"He's _not_ a Cylon!" Thrace said, raising her voice. "He's… an alien."

"What?!" Apollo and the President said simultaneously.

"He's not a Colonial. He crashed landed on Caprica a day before I got there. He helped Helo and me get off the planet." She approached Apollo, and put her hand on top of his pistol. "He fought the Cylons down there, he saved my life, saved Helo's life. He's a _friend_." She pushed Apollo's pistol downward, and the weapon dropped.

Helo was struggling with two men who held him fast. "Sharon?!" he cried.

"Sharon saved _my_ life down on Caprica," the Chief spoke up, his voice slow and measured. "Let her go."

Apollo turned back to John, rage replacing the fear on his face. "One of those _things_," he pointed backward at the Cylon, "put 2 rounds _into my father's CHEST!_"

"Adama was shot?!" Thrace asked, appalled.

"That wasn't _me_…" Sharon started. A second guard quickly turned and leveled his weapon at her.

"Sharon, _shut up_!" Thrace commanded. "The less you talk the easier this will go."

There was a short pause.

"You missed a few catastrophes while you were away," Apollo said to Thrace, his voice still harsh with emotion.

"_Please_ tell me he's alive," Thrace said, softening her voice.

"Yes, after 2 emergency surgeries Cottle managed to save him." Thrace took a breath and put her hand to her forehead.

"Kara, for the love of Gods," Helo spoke up, "tell them! _This_ Sharon, saved our asses back on Caprica too! _Please!_ Tell them!" He struggled again.

Kara paused. It was the Chief who spoke. "The person you're about to airlock stole the heavy raider for us. _We'd_ still be stuck on that planet, and _you_," he turned to the President now, "wouldn't have your Arrow of Apollo."

"You told this…man about your _mission_?" The President demanded of Thrace.

"Yes, I did," Thrace replied, then turned to John, "Chief, shut the FRACK UP!" She paused, then looked back at the President. "What he said was true."

Once more there was a pause, as the President pursed her lips, then frowned. Sharon spoke next, despite Starbuck's warning.

"I know how to find the Tomb of Athena."

The President looked at the Cylon sideways and crossed her arms. "Kobol's a big planet," Sharon continued, "you don't find the tomb you don't find Earth." Now the President faced Sharon, staring the Cylon down. Neither broke eye contact for several moments as they measured each other.

Starbuck pulled the Arrow out of her carrying case and presented it to the woman. She grabbed hold of the golden object and examined it, then looked sideways at the Cylon. The guards Sharon had disabled had come to their senses but remained prone. "Put her in the brig," the President commanded. The two men stood up and grabbed hold of the Cylon's arms. She let herself be lead down the corridor.

The President turned back to the Chief as the men surrounding him lowered their weapons. The pair holding Helo let go as well.

"Put this…soldier in the brig as well." The stateswoman commanded.

"I'm not going in any jail cell." John replied. The weapons came up again.

"_Chief,_" Thrace spoke, imploring him with her eyes to give in.

"Fine," he said after a long moment. He flicked the safety on the M90 and drew his pistol, holding it by the barrel. He handed both weapons to Thrace. "Quick question," he spoke, "who are Adama and Cottle?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"…the hell were you _thinking_?! You _knew _they were gonna recognize you as a Cylon on sight! You trying to get yourself shot?"

John's voice was raised a few decibels louder than normal but he wasn't yelling. At least not yet. Both he and Sharon were sitting in separate cells divided by a row of bars, both with their hands bound. Sharon was lying on the lower of two bunk beds, while the Chief was sitting Indian style on the floor; he weighed too much to sit on the bunks.

Sharon had been given an orange jumpsuit to wear and removed her Colonial uniform, the Chief had refused when similar clothing was presented. The two of them had been locked in their cells for the better part of 2 hours now, waiting.

Sharon was silent, and refused to reply to the Chief. She had remained silent for the length of her incarceration, staring at the ceiling, the bars, and occasionally at the Chief. But the Chief kept talking.

"Alright, I figured it'd go better than it did. We had no way of knowing the other Sharon had shot this Adama guy. Galactica's Sharon… ah hell… this is going to get damn confusing. The other Sharon, what was her callsign…"

"Boomer," both Cortana and Sharon answered in unison.

"Boomer's probably locked up like us right now. But dammit Sharon, you have _got_ to know better!" Again there was silence.

"How'd you know Boomer's callsign?" the Chief asked after a few moments.

Sharon didn't answer at first, but, finally, looked at the Chief and responded. "I have her memories, Boomer's. So I could…interact… with Helo convincingly. I remember everything she's gone through on the ship, except for the time since the attack."

The Chief grunted, cocking his head in thought. "Huh. So when Starbuck said…nevermind."

Sharon's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"What Starbuck said to Helo at the museum…"

"You were there?"

"Hiding in the shadows. Got there right after Kara killed the Six. You remember what she said, about you being a copy?"

Sharon blinked.

"That description fits. For all intents and purposes, you're a copy."

"I am _not._ I'm _Sharon_…"

"_Boomer_ has actually served with these people. Actually eaten in the mess with them. Actually been on the line with them. You haven't. You have the memories of it, but you haven't actually _done_ those things."

There was a pause, as Sharon returned her gaze to the bunk above her. "I know. But _I_ didn't shoot the old man, _I_ love Helo, _I…_ know what I am."

"What?"

"Boomer didn't know she was a Cylon. She was programmed to think she was human."

The Chief looked away from Sharon for a few moments, frowning beneath his helmet. "Kind of heartless to do that to her don't you think?" Sharon didn't reply. The Chief sat in silence for another minute, then spoke again. "You're not a separate person to the Colonials, Sharon, just another version of Boomer. The sooner you demonstrate you're a separate, _different_ person, the sooner you get out of a jail cell."

"Why?"

"They can't trust Boomer, and never will, not again. They _might_ learn to trust _you_."

Now it was Sharon's turn to frown in thought. "But she didn't have a choice when she…"

"She betrayed them, betrayed their trust, and treachery in war can't be forgiven, regardless of the circumstances. End of story."

Sharon didn't have time to answer. The door to their cellblock opened, and in stepped the President followed by 2 armed guards. "Wait outside," the woman said to her escort. She waited until the men had left, then approached Sharon's cell. The Cylon stood beside her bunk, waiting expectantly.

The President paced in front of the door a few times, locking eyes with Sharon the entire time, again the two measured each other.

Finally the President asked "Why did you help Lt. Agathon escape Caprica?"

Sharon replied immediately, without thought. "Because I love him, and because I'm carrying his child." The words were sincere and emphatic.

For a moment the Chief thought the President's gaze would freeze Sharon in an icicle. The reply was equally chilly. "Oh, I see, that explains it, you're not here because you mean us any harm or because you're a programmed enemy of humanity. You're here because you had an _affair_ with one of our Raptor pilots."

Sharon spoke, pleading "Listen to me…"

The President cut her off. "I'm listening to you. That's my _mistake_, I'm listening to a _Cylon_."

Now Sharon returned a glare to match the President's own. "I am _here_ because I _chose_ to come here. And I _know_ you don't believe me, but hear this: even if you find the Tomb, even if you find the map, and even if you find Earth, the price you pay will be too high."

"Sharon, now's not the best time to make threats," John interrupted.

"I will speak to _you _in due time, in the meanwhile remain silent while I interview this prisoner." The President responded, glowering now at the Chief, her voice ringing with authority.

"Sure thing, lady," the Chief replied, and leaned back against the bars of his cell while stretching his legs.

The President turned back to Sharon. "I'm not interested in your prophecies. I know that there is a Cylon force on Kobol, _I_ know it's dangerous, and I have little doubt that you are communicating everything I say even as we speak."

"It doesn't _work_ like that," Sharon cut in testily, breaking eye contact and moving away from the cell door, "I'm not wired in!"

"Sharon, it's simple," the President continued, speaking slowly. "What I need to know, and what _might_ keep you alive, is _exactly_ how to find the Tomb of Athena."

"Get me a map, and I will do my _best_ to tell you how to get to the Tomb."

"No you'll do better than you're best. I want to know where it is and you either know or you don't."

Sharon approached the bars. "We _all_ know about the Tomb. I can show you the path. I don't know how long the path is or exactly where it leads to, but I can tell you that you're gonna have to move very, very quickly."

The President's eyes narrowed, as though she was telepathically daring the Cylon to lie to her face. After a few tense moments of staring each other down, the woman finally said "We'll see."

She turned now to the Chief, who got up in his cell and stood at attention. Again the pace, again the stare.

"Advice Chief," Cortana spoke in his ear, "maintain formality. This woman is a head of state. She won't react well to any kind of…flippant remark."

"So don't call her lady?" the Chief whispered.

"Yes!"

The President stopped pacing and spoke. "Why did you help Lieutenants Thrace and Agathon?"

"Ma'am, they're human and I'm human. And the Cylons didn't weren't too friendly when they first saw me. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"At the time?"

"Didn't think I'd wind up in a jail cell for it." The President resumed pacing, never breaking eye contact with the Chief. The Chief continued speaking. "We haven't been formally introduced, ma'am. My name is Master Chief Petty Officer John-117, United Nations Space Command."

The President stopped, crossed her arms and tilted her head. "I am Laura Roslin, President of the 12 Colonies." Automatic courtesy. He was relying on it.

There was another pause before the President spoke again. "What are you?"

_Now is not the time to lie. Time for the whole truth._

"I told you, I'm human, specifically, a SPARTAN-II super soldier, bred and trained since age 6 to be the ultimate warrior. At age 14, I underwent a series of genetic and cybernetic augmentations, resulting in perfect eyesight and depth perception, near unbreakable skeleton, enhanced strength, and reflexes increased to 300 percent above human norm."

Sharon gasped in astonishment. Roslin said nothing, waiting for the Chief to continue.

"I was one of 100 selected candidates who began the program initially. By the time I was augmented, 75 individuals remained. Of these, I was one of 33 who survived without complications. The rest died or were crippled."

"How old are you?"

"46."

"Both Thrace and Agathon state you've fought the Cylons on Caprica. They also say you've made claims about killing numbers of Centurions I find hard to believe."

"Ma'am, I doubt you'd expect me to dispute what they told you. The numbers I described are accurate."

The President pursed her lips and continued to stare at the Chief. "Why did you intervene earlier? Are you so determined to see this machine live? If the Cylons are your enemy as well…"

"The UNSC is not at war with either the Colonial Fleet or Cylons."

"Be that as it may," the President continued, annoyed at the interruption, "since you have helped our pilots you are now their enemy. Why is this _machine's _survival so important to you?"

"I told you before, she saved my life and piloted the heavy raider. I helped her steal it from an airbase on Delphi. At one point I was cornered by Centurions on the open tarmac. My shields had failed…"

"What?"

"The MJOLNIR armor I'm wearing is shielded, heavily. I've taken 10 straight hits from Centurion fire and they've remained intact; what's more, the energy field recharges. But enough hits and the protection fails. I'd been trapped by the Cylons and was about to die, but Sharon saved me, flew the heavy raider over my head and took them out."

The President said nothing. The Chief continued. "She could have abandoned me, let me die, hell, she could have left all of us to rot back on Caprica. She didn't. I owe her my life. She's earned my trust, and that's why I wasn't going to let you kill her. In a way, you owe her just as much as I do. Lieutenants Thrace and Agathon would not have been able to return without her help."

The President looked irritated, clearly not enjoying the prospect that she was in debt to an enemy. She stared at the Chief for a few moments, and the annoyance in her eyes slowly vanished. Finally Roslin closed her eyes, and asked another question.

"Is it true? Is the UNSC based where you say it is?"

"Yes. We're real." He didn't mention Earth because Roslin hadn't mentioned it. He was fairly sure that the woman wanted to keep the knowledge of his homeworld secret.

Roslin opened her eyes, gazing at the Chief. It seem like an inner war was being fought between a half of her soul clinging to a desperate hope, and a clinical brain warning her of the pitfalls of trusting the two people she had incarcerated. The Chief spoke again, his voice echoing half of the debate raging within the President.

"Ma'am, I've told you I'm a super-soldier. I am stronger, faster, tougher, and better armed than any Centurion you may encounter on the surface of Kobol, and I am more than capable of eliminating a full patrol of them by myself. You're going to want to take me along."

Roslin pursed her lips, and the Chief grinned beneath his helmet as another thought struck him. "From the look of things you don't have many professional military personnel around at the moment. You want a full-time, professionally trained bodyguard down there?"

The President gazed at John for a very long moment. She crosses her arms, paced, uncrossed them, paced some more. Finally she turned back to the SPARTAN.

"I'll have your cell unlocked."

"Don't bother, I'll let myself out." With that, he broke the restraints binding his wrists and wrenched the metal door open with a squeal. Roslin was wide-eyed in surprise.

"You could have escaped at any time," she whispered.

"Yeah. And taken out all of your guards when we first met, but that seemed like a lousy way to say hello. Now, aren't you glad you've got something like me on your side?"


	13. Part XIII: Boots On The Ground

**Part XIII Boots on the Ground**

The small transport left the hangar bay, slowly angling away from the prison ship where the Chief had been a …guest. At the helm was Captain Adama, Starbuck copiloting. The President was also in the cockpit, rank providing a front row seat. Behind her stood another man, Tom Zarek, who was some kind of guerrilla fighter or terrorist, depending upon which Colonial you asked. Several of his men were aboard the ship as well, providing armed escort.

_They're not much, you can tell by their bearing. A Cylon patrol, hell the Resistance back on Caprica could rip apart this bunch without much trouble._

The more Cortana examined Zarek and his men the less enthused she was with their current situation. Roslin had explained while the expedition was gearing up that she had in fact split the fleet, taking the ships orbiting Kobol away from their military escort, the Galactica. Commander Adama, Apollo's father, had instituted a coup to remove Roslin from her position when Roslin ordered Starbuck to journey to Caprica for the Arrow. Roslin had escaped custody with Lee's help, and rallied whatever ships would follow her in search of a way to Earth.

Zarek had provided both a ship to hide out on and means to broadcast messages to the rest of the fleet. The Chief, as usual sizing up whomever he met on sight, judged Zarek to be tough, smart, and capable.

He was also about as trustworthy as a snake.

"Those 'guards' of Zarek's are here to take care of _him_." The AI remarked.

"Yeah I know." John whispered. He was standing in a passenger section of the craft, next to Sharon, whose hands were still bound, and Helo, who refused to leave her side. Behind Zarek was another woman, Elosha, apparently some kind of priest and a close advisor of Roslin.

"You can't rely on anyone except the pilots down here Chief," Cortana continued. "Zarek's men aren't trained soldiers. They're not even low grade mercenaries. Centurions will chew his men up. That leaves Galactica's personnel, period."

_3 people_. He didn't know Apollo well at all, and the Captain had kept his distance from him as they prepared to embark. The pilot didn't say so out loud, but clearly he would have preferred to airlock Sharon rather than take her along. The Chief sensed Adama also didn't like or trust the SPARTAN either, and was keeping quiet out of respect for Roslin and Starbuck.

The Adama/Starbuck relationship was also interesting. Apollo clearly had eyes for the blonde pilot, and while Thrace certainly returned a degree of affection, it was markedly different than the relationship with Anders. The Chief doubted Starbuck had told Apollo of the lover she left behind. John didn't blame her. _Cylons will provide plenty of fireworks without a lover's spat anyway_.

He wasn't going to have time to ponder much, he knew. Apollo had stated during a preflight briefing that the ride would take 10, 15 minutes after they left the ship. They had to circle the planet then head down to a landing zone already identified as the place where a ship called The Galleon had departed, taking refugees from some kind of war on Kobol to the other colonies. Including Earth.

He'd overheard this story when Roslin had led him to a small room where Elosha, Zarek, and one of Zarek's men, Meier, were waiting. They had discussed whether to take Sharon with them as a guide, Roslin already having decided not to kill the Cylon. She used the opportunity to introduce the Chief to the others, taking John up on his suggestion of a personal bodyguard.

The Chief suspected he was really there to show Zarek that Roslin had a gunman of her own watching her back.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"She claims to love Lt. Agathon. She says she loves the baby she's carrying." Roslin said.

"She certainly acts like it." The Chief added.

"Who _cares_ what she says!" Meier snapped, leaning forward from his seat. "You can't believe a word, _any _of this!"

"The scrolls of Pythia do speak of a lower demon," Elosha interrupted, "who helped the people in a time of crisis."

"You sure that's not me?" the Chief quipped.

"What?" Roslin asked, raising an eyebrow. "You said you're human."

"The Covenant, the species I told you about that waged a war against my people, called me 'The Demon,' because I destroyed a large structure sacred to them."

"They must have been horrifically frightened of you."

"I gave them good reason."

Elosha interrupted. "Then what do you know of the Prophecy of Pythia?"

"Not a damn thing. I don't know anything about your religion at all."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

At that point Roslin had asked one of Zarek's guards to lead John back to the hangar bay to unload his equipment.

His last statement to Elosha had been a lie, and Roslin was eager to remove him from the room before Elosha asked any more questions. He'd told Roslin in private information that Cortana had pulled from her databanks, namely that the names of the Colonial gods matched those of the Greco-Roman mythology of Earth. The President was upset to learn that it was by now a dead religion, especially when he told her that most UNSC humans were monotheistic, like the Cylons, if they believed in God at all. Roslin had asked him to remain quiet on the subject.

Actually the President had also requested that he not name Earth as the UNSC homeworld to anyone. Like the Chief, she didn't trust Zarek or any of his people. Of the Colonials surrounding Kobol, only Helo, the President, and Starbuck were aware of his origin.

He still hadn't told anyone about Cortana though.

A bump caused the Chief to snap out of his reverie. They'd entered the atmosphere at a shallow angle, the craft they were in apparently not designed for combat landings. Slowly they descended towards the surface, towards the open meadow that marked the start of the trail to the Tomb of Athena; the start of the trail Home.

The ride was rocky, everyone standing behind the pilots had difficulty keeping their balance except the Chief. He checked his MA5C and two pistols, making sure they were secured, along with the satchel of food he'd brought. Finally the ship slowed and banked left, Apollo announcing they were almost at their destination.

The ship rocked again, this time from an impact. "Frack," Starbuck growled, "we've got Centurions firing at us from the landing zone."

"How many in the Meadow?" the Chief asked, striding forward and leaning past the President.

"Uhh, picking up 5 on DRADIS, Chief," Thrace replied.

"Are there any other possible landing sites nearby?" Roslin asked as the ship rocked again.

"No, we checked." Apollo stated, gritting his teeth and weaving the craft upward, away from enemy fire. "We'll either have to find another spot miles away or abort."

"We'll lose a lot of time…" Roslin started

"Don't bother," the Chief interrupted. "Captain, could you bring this ship around northeast and fly past, over the open clearing? Starbuck, open the rear hatch before he does so."

"What are you planning?" Roslin asked.

"Get my boots on the ground and take out the Cylons," John replied.

"What the frack are you gonna do, jump?" Apollo demanded, staring at the Chief like he had 3 heads.

"Exactly." A whirring behind him told John that Thrace had done as he asked. He turned around and gestured the others in the passenger area to clear the space between him and the now open door. Looking back, he saw the craft approach the meadow and begin to take fire.

Then he sprinted past the others on the craft and leaped out of the back of the ship.

The roaring of air whipping past greet him. He was in free fall, several hundred meters above the ground. Below him, 3 Centurions stood in a triangle, firing at the ship as it passed. Another was alone in the northwest corner. The fifth was in the southwest section, directly below him.

He allowed himself a moment of exhilaration before he realized that the fifth Cylon had spotted him, and was firing up at him. He pivoted, pointing his feat downward at the machine, which remained unmoving, and drew his two pistols. He shields flared as a round struck him and he shot one bullet from each gun as he plummeted toward the Earth, holding his fire at the last second.

He landed directly atop the machine.

With a metallic squeal the Centurion buckled as the half ton SPARTAN's feet drove into it, tearing the right arm clear off and bending the torso at a sickening angle. The Chief's feet registered the shock of landing, and he grunted in pain at the impact, but quickly recovered, putting a bullet through the forehead of the still moving robot.

He crouched, aiming both his firearms at the cluster of Centurions in the center of the clearing. By now the transport had passed overhead, and the group turned. The Chief aimed one pistol each at a single Centurion, the MJOLNIR targeting systems allowing him to aim at separate robots. He felled 2 with 3 shots each from both pistols, then converged his weapons on the center robot, which had started firing at him. 4 rounds dropped it.

He turned to the last Cylon. After witnessing the fate of its comrades the machine was retreating rapidly, heading for a nearby wooded ridge across the clearing. He fired the last round in his right-hand pistol, winging the machine in the leg and slowing it. Then he drew down on the Centurion, and fired a round from the left-hand weapon, striking the machine in the shoulder and staggering it. But it was still moving, only a few meters from the wood line.

He aimed down the pistol sight and fired his last round. _Center mass_. The robot crumpled in a heap.

He'd been on the ground only 10 seconds.

The transport returned to hover over the clearing. He imagined the look on the 2 pilots face as the Chief stood alone amidst the dead Centurions, talking to each other in disbelief that he'd already destroyed the machines. He reloaded the clips in his pistols, then waved to the transport.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Two of Zarek's men were scrutinizing the hull of the transport to check for damage. The rest of the occupants had disembarked and were standing in a cluster a few meters from the ship. Starbuck stood to his side, examining the wreckage of the Centurion he'd crushed.

"I can't believe how fast you took these things out," she said.

The Chief shrugged his shoulders. "It's what I do."

"Yeah, but you landed right on top of this one, after falling 300 meters! Must have hurt like a bitch."

"A little. Armor's not _completely_ impact proof, but I've fallen farther and survived."

Thrace grinned. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the longest you've fallen?"

"Two klicks, after jumping from a ship that was going down in the atmosphere. Now _that_ one hurt."

Starbuck shook her head. "Gods. Okay, you win. After _me_, you're officially the toughest bastard I know."

"What I don't count?" Helo quipped, overhearing their conversation. The Chief grinned beneath his helmet.

The Chief walked out in front of the rest, trying to pick up any motion on his scanners. He could hear Elosha, standing near the President, reciting passages from the Scrolls of Pythia, the religious text the expedition was using to find their way.

"Here we go," the priest said, " 'And the blaze pursued them. And the people of Kobol had a choice, to board the great ship, or take the high road through the rocky ridge…"

"And the body of each tribe's leader was offered to the Gods, in the Tomb of Athena," Sharon interrupted, reciting the words without looking at the text. She approached Elosha and Roslin as she spoke.

"Yes, precisely," Elosha replied, nodding her head and turning towards the Cylon.

Sharon looked around the clearing, past the Chief, who turned around to watch the rest of the Colonials. "And the great ship was the Galleon that departed from here where we're standing." She walked away from the rest of the group, past the Chief, and continued reciting the passage from memory. " 'And it took the Founders of the 13 colonies to their destiny. And those that did not board the Galleon took the High Road, the rocky ridge that led to the Tomb."

"Rocky ridge 1 o'clock," the Chief said, pointing to at a piece of terrain that fit the description. A path seemed carved into a nearby cliff-face leading to the ridge. "Looks pretty rugged."

"Yeah, that's gonna be a heckuva hike," Apollo said, coming next to the Chief. "You want point?" he asked the SPARTAN.

"I'd better, I'm the one with motion sensors," John said, tapping his helmet as he spoke. He turned to the rest. "When we get past that cliff, try to stay off the trails. They might be booby-trapped."

Zarek and Meier both raised an eyebrow. "Why? Any trail will lead straight to the Tomb."

"The Cylons know everything Sharon does," the Apollo replied, "so believe me, they'll have figured out whatever route we take to the Tomb long before we actually use it. I wouldn't put it past them to set up an ambush over that ridge."

Meier was still ready to argue "So how the hell are we going to find our way?"

"I'll keep us parallel to the trails," the Chief answered, "but you_ stay off them_."

He moved off, heading towards the cliff face, 40 meters in front of the rest.

Alone.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

_This place is like a rainy version of Caprica_.

They'd been hiking for over 3 hours now. The pace was slow for the Chief, but as much as he would have wished otherwise there was no way Elosha, the President, or half of the others in the group could go much faster. The terrain was even harsher than they had thought; the hills were not only forested but also rocky, the slopes steep and slick from recent rain.

He was picking up the rest of the group behind him on his sensors. It had become a pattern; he'd be out in front for a good 20 minutes, then would reappear after a bend in the rocks, at the bottom of a gully, always letting them know he was nearby, always letting them know that he led the way.

So far, he hadn't picked up so much as a blip.

An hour ago Apollo had gestured to him, beckoning him back toward the group. He didn't need to hear what the Captain was going to say once he saw the heaving breaths of Roslin and Elosha. The ground was too tough. They'd have to start using the trails.

The woods were quiet. He could hear the noises of some birds (or bird-like creatures, Cortana corrected), but he hadn't actually seen any wildlife. The forest was serene.

And that's what worried him. Quiet always meant trouble. The trail flattened, and rounded a bend.

"Cortana, do you think the trail here could be…"

"A likely ambush spot?" the AI finished. "One moment…yes. The hill at 2 o'clock is a perfect firing position. Could you examine the ground around the bend?"

"Why?"

"Mines."

"Check."

The others were still 30 meters behind, still out of sight. He walked further down the trail, staring intently at the earth. The area cleared out slightly as the trail turned, right in front of the rocky outcropping. A couple of stones with some kind of runic carving were also visible off the trail. He surveyed the area, hoping to pick up some movement, some evidence of a trap.

_Nothing_.

He turned back to the others, now only 15 meters away. Two of Zarek's men were in front along with Helo. Elosha and Sharon were following behind, then the remainder of the group were clustered around Roslin.

"What's up?" Helo said in a low voice.

"See that rocky outcropping?" the Chief said, hiking his left thumb over his shoulder. The pilot nodded. "The woods open up some around this bend. It's a good ambush point. Stay on your toes." Helo nodded and headed forward with Zarek's men, Sharon and Elosha behind.

Apollo and Starbuck came forward, having overheard the Chief's reply. "Have you picked up anything?" the Captain asked.

"No, but they're machines. They can remain motionless for as long as they want," John replied, unlimbering the MA5C slung behind his back. He flicked the safety and raked the action on the weapon back.

"Expecting trouble?" Starbuck said with a smirk.

"Always." He turned, and led the remainder around the bend. Roslin walked right behind him.

Helo and the other armed men were advancing cautiously down the trail. Elosha was glancing about the path. "The path is supposed to be marked by gravestones," the Priestess said. She and Sharon began looking on either side of the trail.

"Gravestones, huh?" the Chief said aloud.

"Yes," the Priestess replied, "have you seen something like that?"

"In the brush to your right, at the top of a small rise."

Elosha walked down the trail a few more steps. The group at the front of the column had halted and turned. "There _is_ something there," Elosha said, her voice raised in some excitement. She moved over to the stone and bent down to examine it.

"Chief, the stone could be booby trapped!" Cortana said in alarm.

"Elosha, wait…" the Chief began.

Then he heard the click.

"WAIT!" Sharon yelled, her palms up, trying by force of will to stop Elosha from moving.

Had Elosha been a trained soldier, she would have frozen. She would have remained in a crouch for as long as possible. She would have recognized that the click meant she had stepped on the trigger of a mine.

But she was not a soldier. She reacted as most do, by instinct, quickly withdrawing her foot in alarm.

A small oblong cylinder shot up from the ground. _Bouncing Betty!_

Before the Chief could move, the device exploded, hurling Elosha further into the brush. Then another cylinder leapt into the air, and another, to the right of the Chief and Roslin.

Had he been a normal man he could not have reacted in time. But a SPARTAN's reflexes weren't those of a normal man. John hurled himself before Roslin, shielding her body with his own as the bouncing betties detonated. The force of the blast struck him full, throwing the Chief backward.

For a long moment he lay still. For longer moments he heard nothing.

He was aware that he was lying on his side. He could not hear. He could see, but the images were fuzzy, with a yellow halo surrounding everything. A man, down the trail, pointed his arm upward and fire sprang forth. Then a series of stars roared down upon him, passing through the man, who crumpled from their force.

His hearing returned slightly. He could make out…gunshots, people yelling, the zip of bullets streaking by, wooden thunks as they struck trees, but all the noise was competing with a roaring sound, like the noise of the ocean crashing towards a beach.

He realized he was suffering from shellshock. He rolled onto his back, and sat up a bit, looking down the rest of his body. _No blood, no injuries. Lucky_.

He felt around his shoulder, then reached his right hand to his head and felt…

…hair. His helmet had been blown off. Still dazed, he glanced slowly left, then right. He saw Roslin taking cover beneath the rocky outcropping, Zarek beside her, firing a pistol. Meier was present as well, beckoning to the Chief and opening his mouth.

_Strange, he's not saying anything_. _I should tell him he's lost his voice_…

Meier's mouth opened wider. The Chief staggered to his knees and crawled towards the rocks. The dirt sprang up around him, it seemed like the dirt didn't want him to talk to Meier. Meier ran towards him, grabbed a hold of the Chief's shoulder, and with a grunt tried to lift him. The Chief stumbled forward and collapsed behind Zarek.

Meier was still trying to talk to him. John still couldn't hear the words. Not at first. Then finally he heard "…alright?"

John blinked, and the world snapped into focus.

"Are you alright?" Meier repeated.

The Chief shook his head to clear it. "Yeah. Just dazed."

"Here, you dropped this," Apollo yelled, throwing the Chief his assault rifle. He and Starbuck were also sheltering under the rock ledge, firing back at the Cylons above.

"How many?" John shouted back.

"4! Helo's already dropped one!" The captain then switched his pistol with one of Starbuck's and leaned out, firing several rounds and striking a Centurion in the head.

_Make that 3_. "Keep them busy!" John hollered, "I'll deal with these canners!"

He sprang from their hiding place and sprinted, parallel to the rocky outcropping. The Centurions fire tracked him, stitching a path behind the SPARTAN as he ran. He quickly dove behind a fallen log. Without his helmet, he had no way of knowing his shield strength, no sensors, and also no protection. A round could strike him on his unshielded head. He rose to a crouch behind the log and fired a burst. The machine was struck on the shoulder and staggered backward. He fired another burst and the Centurion toppled.

The remaining Cylons were still firing down upon the others. He ran towards the outcropping, slinging his MA5C onto his back, and with a leap clung to a ledge several feet above ground. Quickly, he began to climb the 20 feet to the top, reaching it in a few seconds.

He peered over the face of the ledge and saw one Centurion beside a bush firing downward. Holding onto the rocks with his left arm, he drew the assault rifle with one hand and leveled it at the robot. He pulled the trigger. The gun bucked madly and his fire was inaccurate, but the range was close enough that it didn't matter. The Centurion fell off the ledge, its chest perforated.

He vaulted onto the top of the hill, looking for the last enemy Cylon. He could still hear it firing, off to his left. He crouched, and crept forward. He'd gone maybe 5 meters when an explosion in front of him caused him to hit the dirt in reflex. He saw a robot arm fly up into the air; one of the Colonials must have fired a grenade launcher at the last Centurion.

He stood up and approached the edge of the outcropping, yelling that it was all clear. He looked down at the scene below him. Roslin, Zarek, all he'd left below the rocks were fine. He also saw Sharon, standing over Apollo, dropping a smoking grenade launcher at his feet. She was the one who took out the last Centurion.

"Hey Sharon, nice shot!" the Chief yelled, and waved.

"Lose something, Chief?" he heard Starbuck say. He looked down. Thrace had his helmet in one hand.

"Yeah. Mind if I get that back?" He slung the assault rifle onto his back and held up both his hands to receive the helmet.

Starbuck tossed it up to him, barely making the edge of the rocks. He had to stretch to catch the helmet. "Brown hair, close-cut, small scar by your right eye, somehow I thought you'd look a little less plain under that armor, Chief." The pilot said with a smirk.

"What were you expecting," the SPARTAN replied, "2 antlers and a third eye?" He let the pilot see him smile, then fitted the helmet to his head, snapping it in place with a click. Thrace's smirk widened to a smile in return

"Diagnostics indicate all systems normal," Cortana chirped in his ear. "What'd I miss?"

"A Cylon ambush," the Chief whispered, starting to climb down the rocks. "5 Centurions. We lost 2 of Zarek's men, and probably Elosha."

"Light casualties, considering a set of mines were set off."

The Chief grunted. The assessment was callous, but he thought the same. Both he and Cortana knew better than to repeat the sentiment, given the scene before John when he climbed down.

Roslin was kneeling before the body of the priest, staring at the dead woman. Apollo knelt behind her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. The rest were in a line behind the two. "A cost in…blood," the President murmured.

"There's always a cost in blood," the Chief said, his words flat. Apollo glanced at him, irritated, then looked back at Roslin.

"Let's go, Madame President," Apollo spoke.

Roslin picked up the Kobol scripture book Elosha had been carrying and began to weep. Lee led her back towards the others.

"I'll take point on the trail," John said.

"No, no," Roslin said, through tears, and took a breath. "You were right, we need to stay off the path. I'm not losing _anyone_…else." She began weeping again.

"That's gonna be tough on you, Laura," Zarek said.

"We reach a point where you're having trouble keeping up, I'll carry you," the Chief spoke. Roslin nodded, holding her head in one hand and still crying.

He turned and led them into the woods. Off the trail.


	14. Part XIV: Reunion

**Part XIV Reunion**

It was a hard climb. Sharon had pointed them northwest after a detour south, past the trails, through a rocky ravine and up a steep wooded ridge. _Hell, that's all the terrain is, woods and rocks. Doesn't this planet have a nice flat plain?_

And it was raining, always raining.

The Chief wasn't tired, certainly not nearly as sore as the others in the group. Already he'd carried Roslin up a steep length of the ridge once. Now, he was atop another steep incline, still below the peak, holding a rope that stretched down the slope. The Chief was systematically pulling on the rope, bringing another Colonial to his position, then lowering the rope so another could latch on.

Sharon and Helo were above him, leading the group. The Cylon, whose restraints had now been removed, was nearly tireless, the climb not affecting her at all. Helo, given strength by the desire to protect the woman he loved, was somehow keeping up. Slowly but surely the Chief lifted the others up the ridge, first Starbuck, then Meier, then Zarek, now Roslin.

The President seemed weak when he pulled her up. She held onto her book of scripture like a lifeline. Her astonishment at his strength showed on her face. Had he not had his helmet on he would have smiled to reassure her. He give her a small pat on the shoulder, then cocked his head up the hill. "Keep going," he told her, "we're close to the top. Then it's a nice stroll down hill."

Roslin smiled weakly and resumed a wobbly hike up the ridge. Apollo was next. The Captain refused the Chief's helping hand, pushing it away. He continued climbing without looking at the SPARTAN.

Finally John pulled up the last of Zarek's men, a bald burly tough named Neil. The Chief turned and saw Roslin, kneeling in the mud and clearly exhausted. Apollo came up behind her, placed an arm along her back, and helped her up the ridge.

"Are you okay?" Adama shouted over the rain to Roslin.

"Yes," the President said, breathing hard, "I…uh…"

"We gotta get out of this ravine," the captain continued, "I don't want us to get caught in a flash flood."

The Chief came up behind them. "Here," he said to Laura, "let me carry you up again."

Apollo glared at the Chief, not wanting the SPARTAN to help. Even after what they'd been through on the planet it was clear the pilot still did not trust him. Roslin, bone weary, nodded at Adama, gesturing him to release her. The Chief knelt, and Roslin clambered up his back. The green giant resumed his climb, his cargo riding piggyback.

The three quickly caught up to Zarek and the others above.

"I'm going to contact the Astral Queen, see if they can pick us up until the weather clears," Zarek said.

"You're not in charge here Tom," Apollo cut in, his voice ringing with rebuke, "all com-traffic goes through me. _Try_ to remember that."

Apollo hiked past, missing the glare on Zarek's face. The Chief noticed though.

"Looks like Zarek wants to be in charge," Cortana chimed.

"Yeah. Keep an eye on him and Meier with the sensors would you?" the Chief whispered in reply.

They reached the top perhaps 45 minutes later. The rain had finally ceased. Below them lay another heavily wooded valley, and across the valley lay _another_ rocky ridgeline, this one taller than the first. _This is getting irritating._ Sharon and Helo were waiting for the rest of them, the Cylon still showing no signs of breaking a sweat.

"I think the Tomb is on that ridge in the distance," Sharon said pointing across the wooded valley.

The Chief placed a hand on the side of his helmet and activated his helmet zoom. Apollo brought a pair of binoculars to his eyes. Both looked across the valley, through the mist, towards the rocky hills in the distance.

"11 o'clock, 20 degrees elevation," Sharon continued, "there's a formation of twin rocks up ahead."

"Yeah, I got it," the Chief and Apollo said in unison. John could hear Helo stifling a chuckle.

"I think those are the gates of Hera," Sharon concluded.

"You think?" Starbuck asked.

"I'm putting together a lot of pieces from a _lot_ of sources beyond your Scriptures. If I'm right, that's the spot where your gods stood and watched Athena throw herself down onto the rocks below, out of despair over the exodus of the 13 tribes."

"Messy way to go," the Chief said.

"Supposedly?" Zarek cut in.

"Yeah, don't get her started," Starbuck replied. "They believe in one true god, or something like that." Thrace had a mocking half smile on her face.

"We don't worship false idols," Sharon said.

Apollo turned, raising his eyebrows. "You were quick enough to come on this mission, lead is all to some tomb only mentioned in our…_false_… scriptures."

"We know more about your religion than _you_ do," the Cylon replied, somewhat testy.

"You sure as hell don't know anything about mine," the Chief spoke up. He saw Roslin hide a smile.

Sharon ignored the quip. "Athena's tomb, whoever, whatever she really was, is probably up there. _That_ part is true," she looked at Thrace as she finished.

Starbuck turned her head to look at Roslin. "Madam President, we won't make it up there before nightfall."

"Let's go, see how far we get," the President replied. She turned, taking the lead down a small incline leaking away from the cliff they were standing upon.

"Gonna be a wet camp," the Chief groused.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The camp was indeed wet, the rain still unceasing. They were out of the ravine, so there was no chance of being flooded out, but they still had at least another half day of travel to reach the Tomb, down one ridge and up another. Neil was walking the perimeter, having volunteered for first watch. The rest of the party had bedded down in pairs, Helo and Sharon, Apollo and Starbuck, Meier and Zarek.

Except Roslin. She was alone under a small tent, seemingly intent on studying scripture. But the Chief knew the look upon the President's face. She was reading without really reading, the words meeting a wall and bouncing off a vivid image, still in the woman's mind, of Elosha's dead body.

She needed to talk. Or be talked to. The Chief crouched near her shelter half.

"Want some company?" he spoke.

Roslin started, having been so lost in thought she didn't even notice him approach. "I… suppose."

John sat down heavily. "When's the last time you ate?"

"I'm…not hungry. I need to study these passages…"

"You haven't eaten all day have you?"

Roslin looked up from the book, a flash of anger passing over her eyes, but remained silent.

"No wonder you were so weak. Here," John pulled a ration from the satchel at his hip and handed it to the woman. "It's meatloaf and mac and cheese."

"What?" asked Roslin, gingerly fingering an edge of the ration pack.

"Macaroni and cheese. Small bent noodles in cheddar cheese."

"Cheddar cheese?"

"That's what they tell us. Rumor has it though that it's really some kind of experimental glue gone bad."

There was a small smile on the woman's face but the eyes were still filled with sorrow. Roslin was still hesitant, looking back and forth between the ration and her book.

"Let me guess, you don't like eating alone? Fine, I'll join you." He took off his helmet and removed another ration from the satchel, quickly tearing it open. Roslin, after a moment, did the same.

They ate in silence at first, Roslin tentatively nibbling on the meatloaf. The Chief was busy chowing down on his own meal. Roslin had taken perhaps a few bites when the Chief had finished half his meal.

"Hate to see good food go to waste," the SPARTAN said.

"I told you, I'm not hungry," the President replied.

There was a long pause as neither spoke. "President Roslin," the Chief said, pausing once more before continuing, "what did you say when Elosha was killed? Something about a price of blood?"

He saw the tears well up in the woman's eyes, and instantly regretted asking the question.

"It's…from the Scriptures. When we left Kobol, Zeus told us that…any…return to Kobol would…exact a price in blood." Roslin fought to keep her voice level.

The Chief didn't reply for a good minute, thinking. "You didn't realize you could lose anyone close to you," he spoke at last.

"Of course I _knew_ it could happen…" Roslin started angrily.

"Passing thoughts and mentally preparing yourself are 2 separate things."

Tears fell down the woman's face and she looked away.

"You weren't the elected President were you? Someone in the administration?"

"Ye…Yes. I was the Secretary of Education. 43rd in line of succession."

_Damn. She's come this far in a few months, tough lady. But…this is probably the first time one of her decisions has resulted in the death of someone she knew well._

"You think this is the first time I've given an order causing the death of people under my care?" the woman continued, strength returning to her voice as she looked back at the Chief. "It's not. When we first fled the Colonies, I ordered Starbuck and Apollo to destroy a civilian transport. The Cylons were using it to track our fleet across space. There were 1500 souls aboard."

"Sounds like you've accepted that you did what you had to do."

"As much as anyone can. But…Elosha…" the President's voice broke slightly as she said her dead friend's name and she gazed at the ground.

"But today was the first day you lost someone close to you under your command." The Chief sat back against the log and sighed, staring at the ground but really seeing memories in his mind's eye. "Aw hell, _no one's_ prepared for it the first time." Roslin glanced at him sidelong as he continued. "Our first mission against the Covenant, we lost one man, Samuel-034. He was my best friend."

Now Roslin looked directly at him, the tears absent from her eyes. John went on. "We had boarded an enemy ship when Sam was hit by a plasma blast. It punched a hole in his armor. We planted some explosives to blow the craft, but our only way out was to jettison back into space. Sam couldn't escape that way, so I ordered him to stay behind and protect the explosives until they blew."

Roslin gasped slightly at the matter-of-fact recitation, then said "But you could have seized an enemy shuttle…"

"We knew nothing about Covenant technology then, Madame President. There was no way we could have piloted a ship. And Sam would have died from explosive decompression when we left. Better for him to go down fighting." He paused, neither saying anything for a few minutes. "For a time, I kept thinking there was something else I should have done. Gone down another corridor. Shot the creature that attacked Sam. Something. Anything."

"What happened?"

"I realized Sam was the first friend I was going to lose, not the last."

Roslin's eyes narrowed slightly and her mouth opened in shock as the Chief continued. "When you fight a war, you lose people. Friends. Sometimes guys you met 10 minutes ago. Sometimes guys whose names you never know. Thing is, what happened to Sam wasn't my fault, wasn't his fault either. It's war. People die. The only choice you have really is either curl up in a ball and give in, or keep going, make their deaths meaningful and make the right calls for the people you have left."

Roslin's head was bowed again. "I don't know if I can…after today…if I make the wrong choice, get Lee, or Lt. Thrace, someone else killed. How many? How many more…"

"You've gotten your people to the start of the road home…"

"I split the fleet. I took us away from the one ship that could keep us safe."

"You thought you were making the right call. You believe that the only way your people will ever be safe is if you find Earth. And you're right. _You are right_. This is the one way to guarantee that your people will finally, at some point, stop running."

"But…Elosha…"

"Laura," the Chief said, gripped the President's wrist, "what happened to her was _not_ your fault. Hell, if anybody should be blaming themselves, it's me and Apollo. _We_ made the decision to move along the trail because you and Elosha were having a tough time hiking."

The President looked up at him. He could see the eyes clearing, her expression hardening as she began to steel herself, to lock away the grief until a time where she could mourn safely. _I was right, she's one tough woman_.

"It's…not your fault, or Apollo's either."

"It's no one's. That's just the way it is. And there's no making sense of it."

They both paused again. Roslin shoved a forkful of macaroni into her mouth. "This…cheddar cheese…is worse than glue." She smiled slightly.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," John returned, smiling slightly as well. He sat back against a nearby log and closed his eyes. "Well Madame President, it's my watch in a couple of hours, so I'd like to get some sleep. Wake me if you need me."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

He awoke to the sound of birds fluttering. A flock, moving rapidly.

_Startled._

Quickly he sat up, grabbing the helmet laying by his side. The rest of the camp also came awake, alerted to the nearby movement.

"Hope you had a nice nap," Cortana chimed sarcastically, "3 contacts east, approaching rapidly."

Apollo hissed at Starbuck, waking the other pilot. The Chief held up his hand, signaling to the Captain that he had 3 blips and the direction they were coming. John readied his MA5C and quickly moved to stand in front of the President, who had been speaking with Apollo in a nearby shelter before the SPARTAN awoke.

Both Starbuck and Helo took flanking positions on either side, preparing to fire when Apollo made a move around the tarp wall. The Chief gestured again that the targets were 10 meters away. The pilot took a breath, then spun around the tarp flap. The other Colonials followed suit.

What they saw made them all pause, wide-eyed in shock. "Estimate 84 percent probability the contacts are not Cylons," Cortana spoke, even as the Chief thought likewise.

"Put down your weapon, Captain," a voice beyond the tarp said. It was male, gruff and deep.

Lee slowly complied. The Chief heard the rustle of leaves as the male figure approached, then saw a burly man, easily in his late 50's, cross the front of the tarp and hug the Captain. The man closed his eyes in joy, and Apollo returned the hug.

"Let me guess," the Chief said to Roslin, noticing the resemblance between the two men, "that's Commander Adama."

The woman said nothing but nodded her head, moving to stand within view of the Commander. She seemed pleased, but also hesitant. The Chief walked backward, coming to stand beside Kara, giving the new arrivals time to say hi, but also unsure how this reunion would go.

"Commander," the woman spoke, nodding her head. It was a formal, respectful, and wary greeting.

Adama smiled slightly and with genuine feeling said "It's good to see you." Roslin smiled in return.

"Madame President?" another male voice, this one very young, spoke. The words came from a tall, thin young man with curly brown hair.

"Billy?" Roslin said softly, half in disbelief, half in wonder. "Billy, you have no idea what it means to me to have you here." The woman was clearly overjoyed.

"It's good to see you too."

Adama turned from embracing his son and saw Thrace first. He approached her, placing a hand behind her head and giving a heartwarming smile. The Chief couldn't see Starbuck's reaction.

Adama noticed him next. As did Billy, as did the third man in the Commander's party. All of their eyes widened in shock.

"Master Chief Petty Officer John-117, United Nations Space Command," the Chief said, extending his hand toward the Commander. "A friend. Your pilots will vouch for me."

Thrace nodded her head at Adama, smiling. Hesitantly, the man took the proffered hand and shook it once. "United Nations Space Command?" he asked.

"Long story," the Chief replied, "but I'll be glad to tell it to you."

Then the unidentified member of Adama's party brought his weapon up. At first, the Chief thought he was going to point the rifle at the SPARTAN, instead, the weapon was aimed above John's head, at something behind him. "Commander!" the man yelled. He held his fire but was clearly alarmed.

Adama looked to his right, over the Chief's massive shoulder. The sight filled the man with rage, which seemed to be building in a slow boil until it would overflow. The Chief turned, and saw Sharon, standing in plain sight.

Adama took a step toward the Cylon. "She's with us, Commander," Helo said. Another step. Another. Sharon did not back up as he advanced, but the spark of fear in her eyes betrayed her anxiety at this meeting.

Adama cocked his head to the side, looking over the image of the woman who barely a week ago had nearly killed him. Then, faster then the Chief could believe, the Commander grabbed Sharon by the throat and hurled her to the ground. Roslin shouted "no!" repeatedly, and Lee forced Zarek off at gunpoint when Tom tried to pry the Commander's death grip from Sharon's throat.

Adama leaned in, face to face with the Cylon. "I want you to _die_." The man growled.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

A note to the readers: my apologies to all of you for getting this section up later than usual. I usually do most of my writing on the weekends, and last weekend I was away visiting family. Look for more next weekend. And just as a little teaser, the next chapter's title is Cortana Revealed.


	15. Part XV: Cortana Revealed

Part XV Cortana Revealed

**Part XV Cortana Revealed**

"Die…" Adama growled.

"Commander, please don't, we need her," Roslin pleaded.

"Commander…" Helo begged. He knelt next to the man.

The Chief shouldered the pilot aside and spoke.

"Commander Adama, please _remove_ your hands from the Cylon's neck." The voice rang with authority, like the police officer ordering a rioter to back down.

Apollo, alarmed by the tone, pointed his weapon at the SPARTAN. The Chief ignored him. "Commander Adama," he repeated, "please remove your hands before I remove _you_."

"Don't you fracking _touch_ him," Apollo growled.

Adama himself seemed oblivious to the confrontation brewing from his actions. He continued to glower, his burning gaze boring holes into Sharon's skull as the Cylon simply lay on her back, refusing to resist.

Suddenly, the Commander hunched in sharp pain, and collapsed on top of Sharon. Sharon muttered something in the man's ear that the Chief couldn't quite make out. Apollo pulled his father off and clutched the shaking man, who was grabbing his chest and grimacing in agony. Helo quickly brought Sharon to her feet and held her close, keeping himself between the Commander and the woman he loved.

John stood over the two Adamas. Apollo stared up at him, eyes half filled with fear at his father's condition.

But the remainder was filled with anger at the Chief. "Don't you ever threaten my father again," he snarled.

"I wasn't going to harm him," the Chief replied. "But I was going to physically lift him off Sharon. We still need her, no matter how much you and your father want to put a bullet in her forehead. Like father, like son."

Apollo turned red-faced in rage. "Whatever, you green…FREAK!"

_Freak. Not the first time I've heard that_. The Chief turned his back and walked towards Helo's tent, where the pilot and the Cylon had retreated.

He sat brooding.

This was the second time in almost as many days that the Colonials had tried to kill Sharon. Frankly, he wasn't surprised. He remembered the hatred he'd felt for the Sangheili, for the Arbiter and the other Elites he had met. He remembered how he'd shoved his pistol in the Arbiter's jaws when they had first met, how he'd still wanted to pull the trigger in the alien's face after he'd been told the Elite was on his side.

Down in the pit of his stomach he still felt a small black ball of hatred towards the Elites. Even after they'd realized how badly they had been duped. Even after he saw how they had been betrayed. Even after he saw many of them selflessly give their lives to contain a Flood outbreak on Earth. Even after he fought side by side with them to save the galaxy.

It was so much easier to start hating than it was to stop.

And it would be the same for Sharon, he knew. There would always be that small measure of distrust, of loathing, no matter what she did for the Colonials. No matter how many times she proved herself worthy of their respect, of their trust, of their friendship. It was eerily reminiscent of how many UNSC personnel view the SPARTANs. Either they looked up to them in awe, or they viewed them…

…_as freaks. The more things change…_

He knew now that Apollo would be much the same towards him, always distrustful, always disdainful, never wanting to be around him or let him do his job.

_How many others? Is there some kind of set rate? 1 out of 10 are terrified of me?_

He was in the unique position of understanding both sides. _The perfect mediator_. _Shit._

"You're not usually this pensive," Cortana chimed.

"Huh. Just thinking," John replied.

"Obviously, but telepathy's never been one of my strong suits."

"Just examining how I'm caught in the middle here. Sharon's the outcast, the freak, hated and feared by fellow humans. I know what it's like…"

"To be feared by those you want to help," Cortana finished for him.

"But the ill will is justified because…"

"She supported a genocidal attack. That's not going to be forgiven anytime soon. I never told you this but I was shocked that you and the UNSC fleet joined forces so quickly with the Elites on the Ark, no matter how necessary it was. I knew the Sangheili had broken off from the Covenant, just as the Gravemind… did…but…"

He heard her voice waver, almost like she was holding back tears.

"Cortana?" There was genuine concern in his question.

"Painful memory," she said after a pause. "Gravemind had a habit of short-circuiting systems I was connected to when he found me digging through data he didn't want me to see. It was the electrical equivalent of hitting me with a whip."

_Torture._ He felt a surge of rage flare in his chest, but paused, considering the admission. _She…regrets? Feels pain?_

"Cortana, things can only be painful if you…"

"Feel emotions? You know I have them, or a machine's equivalent of them. But…agony and anxiety, those were new, things I was not programmed to experience. A side effect of having my programming based off of Dr. Halsey's brain scan and…dealing with that…parasite…I think. I'm not sure when or how it happened, but one day I felt fear, fear that Gravemind would really hurt me, fear that I would never escape him, fear that I would never…" The voice trailed off as Cortana left her thought unfinished. There was another pause. Cortana spoke again, the voice soft and sad. "I told you before that so much of me was broken. I'm not what I once was. Much of my programming was corrupted, other portions altered. When I left High Charity with you, I had to leave parts of myself behind. It was akin to cauterizing the stumps of an amputee."

"You can still think anybody else here into the ground," John murmured, his voice betraying the concern he felt for his friend.

"True, but piloting a cruiser? Controlling the databanks of a space station? Beyond my capabilities now. I can no longer…"

"Cortana, considering we don't have access to so much as a MAC gun, I don't think you'll need to do that."

"But…"

"Right now, you're the one friend I have that I absolutely trust. That's more valuable to me than a fleet of cruisers."

Cortana didn't reply for a long moment. "John, I've never properly told you how…_grateful_… I am that you came for me. I don't know if I'll ever be able to…"

"Thank me? You don't have to. When I make a promise…"

"Promise?" he heard a voice interrupt. The Chief turned and saw Starbuck standing by a tree several feet away. "You talking to yourself?" the pilot asked.

"Yeah," John replied. "Just thinking about…what happened." He paused. "What's up?"

"The President wants you to meet with her and the Old Man in her tent, right now."

"I would be dead. My son would be dead. Whatever else the cost, I won't second guess that outcome," Adama finished, then looked upward at the Chief, who had now approached the two Colonial leaders. Roslin and the Commander were sitting under the President's tent. It almost looked like a friendly chat, like two friends reminiscing, which surprised John considerably. Given the history of the past few weeks he assumed that these two individuals would have a frosty relationship.

Adama looked the Chief over. The SPARTAN stood at attention by the edge of the tent, relaxing slightly and putting his hands behind his back when the Commander told him to stand at ease. Military protocol. John was counting on it.

"The President says that you're human, but not a Colonial," Adama said, coolly gazing at the Chief. "Now, I find that difficult to believe, but she assures me that you've earned the trust of 2 of my pilots, and herself. She says you helped Lieutenants Thrace and Agathon escape Caprica. I may choose to take President Roslin at her word, but I have several questions. First, what are you and how did you come to Caprica?"

John told him what he'd repeatedly told the other Colonials, leaving out details of why he'd been fighting on the Ark at the end of the Human-Covenant War. He simply stated that he had finished the fight there before the mishap with his ship in Slipspace. Adama listened in silence.

"Thrace and Agathon will confirm the details of our meeting sir," the Chief finished.

"This United Nations Space Command you're a part of, where's it based?" Adama asked.

The Chief paused for a moment and glanced at Roslin. "You haven't told him?" the SPARTAN asked. The President shook her head. The Chief leaned closer, so that only Adama and Roslin could hear his next words. "Commander, our homeworld is Earth."

Adama's mouth opened slightly and he blinked rapidly for several seconds. "That's…astonishing." The man's gravelly voice was deeper than usual.

"No more astonishing for me, sir. The UNSC's never heard of you, either."

Adama closed his mouth, quickly putting a lid on the excitement and astonishment he was feeling with the knowledge that Earth was real. _Smart, seems capable. Helo and Starbuck seem to worship this guy. Seems loyal to his people._ Then the Chief thought of Apollo, his father's CAG. _Maybe too loyal_.

"Who…else knows?" the Commander asked, trying to close his gaping mouth.

"Other than yourself and the President, sir, only Starbuck and Helo."

Having composed himself, Adama spoke again. "I'm going to want to some proof."

The Chief seemed to pause, when in reality he was whispering to Cortana and asking for suggestions. John repeated what the AI told him. "Sir, there's the technology I use, superior to Cylon weaponry, and my word. In addition, my suit has video records of many of my missions. Get me a video screen and I'll show you…war. Lots of it." The voice was gruffer than usual at the last.

"Finished a long fight?" Adama asked, noticing the shift in the Chief's words.

"Commander, the Human-Covenant war lasted 27 years. 300 destroyed worlds, billions dead. Yeah, it was a long fight."

Adama rocked backed at the statement as Roslin's mouth gaped in horror. "300?" The Commander whispered.

"Yes, sir. But we won. 4 years ago."

Again there was a pause. Both Roslin and Adama closed their eyes, trying to wrap their minds around the concept that the Armageddon experienced by the Colonies was, compared to the Covenant war, just a particularly bad month, even a bad battle. Finally, Adama asked his last question of the Chief. "You must know how to get to Earth?"

"No sir, I do not. I have no idea where I am in this Galaxy. Of course I know Earth's exact location, so I'll recognize the road signs when we get closer, but I need a starting point. I was hoping to find that at the Tomb of Athena."

"We both are," Roslin interjected.

Adama looked down at the ground, then up at the Chief again. Finally, he leaned over and whispered something in Roslin's ear, nodding. The President smiled slightly and stood. "Well," the woman spoke, "we've gotten off to a late start this morning. Master Chief, would you kindly take point beside Sharon?"

"It's where I belong," the SPARTAN replied.

Adama picked up the Book of Pythia and handed it to the President. "It's time to go find this…Tomb of yours," the old man said, smiling.

"You should see this!" Sharon yelled back at the column. The Chief turned, watching the group as it approached. He stood in front of what was clearly a door, carved out of stone. The entrance was close to a cliff face that dropped off into another ravine. The Tomb, in fact, had been located on the other side of the ridge they'd seen the previous day.

_Guess the scrolls aren't as accurate as they thought._

The group stood in a rough line, extending before the entrance. The Chief crossed to stand between Neil and Galen Tyrol, Chief Petty Officer of _Galactica_. There had already been a humorous moment when Starbuck said Chief and both had turned. The two had been properly introduced afterwards.

They'd also decided that Tyrol was Chief, and the Chief was…Master Chief.

Sharon remained in front of the rest. "Doesn't look like much," the Master Chief said.

Roslin glanced sideways at the SPARTAN and frowned, but amusement showed in her eyes. "Lt. Thrace, I hope you have that Arrow handy," she said.

Starbuck smiled and began to draw the Arrow of Apollo from the case slung over her back…

…when Sharon suddenly turned and pointed a pistol at Adama's chest.

Quickly John started to raise his MA5C, seeing Apollo do the same with his weapon, but also that Meier had raised a pistol to the Captain's head as well. The Master Chief felt, somehow, Neil raise his grenade launcher to the armored warrior's head. With superhuman speed, the SPARTAN ducked, tripping Zarek's man with a kick. He heard a shot, and a grunt, guessing that Sharon had fired. He placed a knee on Neil's chest and turned, his weapon at the ready.

He had been right, Sharon had fired.

But she had shot Meier. The bearded man had fallen to the ground. Before the others could react, Sharon thrust her pistol into Adama's chest and spoke.

"I need you to know something," the Cylon said to the Commander, "I'm Sharon but I'm a _different_ Sharon. I know who I am. I don't have hidden protocols or programs lying in wait to be activated. I make my own choices, I make my own decisions, and I need you to know this is _my_ choice." She turned the weapon around and handed it grip first to the Commander.

John looked down at Neil, who was struggling futilely against the half ton behemoth pinning him to the ground. The SPARTAN shoved the barrel of his rifle under the man's nose and growled "Keep moving. _Please._" Neil stilled.

Tyrol examined Sharon's pistol after Adama handed it to him. "One of the old Stallions. This isn't military issue, where did you get this?" he asked the Cylon.

"It's his," Sharon replied, cocking her head at the fallen Meier. Zarek moved over to comfort the dying man. The Master Chief was too far away to make out the words they whispered to each other. But it didn't take a Slipspace engineer to figure out that Meier had orchestrated this "assassination." Sharon was to kill Adama, Meier would have killed Apollo, and Neil would have...

…_well, the grenade would have stunned me at least. That would have been annoying_.

It was stupid, short sighted, ignorant. Several more adjectives sprang to his mind. Meier and Zarek didn't have any weapons which could kill him outright. It was one of the reasons Roslin had wanted him along. They'd been lucky that Sharon had turned on Meier.

John inhaled deeply and exhaled. "Well, if any of you were holding your breath now's a good time to let it out."

Later, after they'd seen to Meier and tied up Neil, Starbuck was examining the doorway, trying to find a niche to fit the Arrow into. The pilot wasn't having much luck and was continuously cursing under her breath.

"The Arrow of Apollo will open the Tomb of Athena," Roslin recited from a page of the Book of Pythia.

"Yeah well, unless anyone see a keyhole or…whatever, then we're either in the wrong place or we're just perfectly screwed," Thrace replied, frustration evident on her face as she looked at the President.

"Okay why don't we just…Helo, come here," Adama spoke, and began to push against the stone.

"Wait," John interrupted, "let me." He put both hands to the door and pushed. The rock moved, slowly at first, but the Master Chief put his full strength into it and the door ground open. Roslin excitedly drew a breath as the entrance opened to inky blackness.

"After you," the SPARTAN said, turning to Starbuck. The pilot smiled and walked past him, followed by Roslin and Apollo. The Master Chief followed.

"Helo you stay out," John heard Adama say. "Chief," the old man said to Tyrol, "guard _everybody_." Then the Commander and Billy followed the SPARTAN into the Tomb.

Within was a large chamber, with 12 broken statues arrayed in a circle. At the far end stood a pedestal, which somehow, though John couldn't say why, seemed familiar to him.

"Chief," Cortana chimed in his ear, "I think that may be a…Forerunner terminal…but it's…different, modified. The configuration in _very_ unusual, altered from the other layouts we've seen on the Halos and the Ark."

"If the Arrow didn't actually open the Tomb how do we know this is the right place?" Starbuck asked when they were all inside.

"We don't," Adama replied, "but it's a tomb alright."

"The Scriptures say you need the Arrow to find the map," Roslin added.

"These broken statues," Thrace said, examining each in turn, "I recognize them. The Ram, Aerulon, Geminon, the Twins, these are the Icons of the 12 Colonies. I mean, this is _really_ where it all began," the pilot seemed a little overwhelmed as she spoke. "We all came from this place."

_Not true_, the Chief thought. He approached the pedestal and bent over it while the others examined the other parts of the Tomb.

"Chief, I think I may be able to activate this," Cortana said. "You'll have to remove me though, and transfer my matrix."

"Guess our little secret's out," the SPARTAN whispered. He ejected the data disk containing the AI and held it before the terminal.

"This could be Picon, the Fish," Billy spoke, examining yet another piece of broken statuary.

"I guess this little lady could be Virgon," Apollo said, scrutinizing another.

"The goat, Caprica." Starbuck marveled.

"Sagittaron," Roslin said, "the _archer_." The others beside John turned and looked at the last statue. As they walked toward the President, the blue of the storage disk in the Chief's hand glowed, then flowed out, into the terminal, as the AI entered the Forerunner construct.

"He's missing something," Adama said, walking over and examining the figure more closely. The pedestal began to glow as Cortana worked, activating slowly, powering up, but the others didn't notice, the Chief's massive bulk blocked the terminal from view. Starbuck walked to the statue of Sagittaron and reverently placed the Arrow in the archer's bow.

The door to the Tomb closed and they were plunged into darkness.

Light flickered a few times, then they found themselves in a grassy field at night. Apollo, Starbuck, and Adama had their weapons at the ready, but except for the 6 of them, they were alone. The field was bordered on all sides by large stone obelisks. Again, John couldn't shake the eerie familiar feeling he felt as he looked at the formation.

Then he saw patterns of light on the obelisks, and those were _very familiar_.

"Where are we?" Apollo asked.

"I…uh…I don't know," Roslin replied. "The Tomb, of Athena, I think."

John didn't have to think. John knew. The lights were star patterns.

"I thought we were already in the Tomb," Adama said.

"I think that was lobby," Starbuck whispered.

The star patterns were constellations he'd seen many times. The SPARTAN took off his helmet and looked upward.

"Again the ancient symbols," Roslin spoke. "These patterns were on the original flags of the 12 Colonies back in the days when the Colonies were called by their ancient names."

"They're not patterns, they're star constellations," John said. The others turned to look at him. He pointed to each and said the name of each star cluster aloud. "Ares, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Libra, Virgo…"

"They _are_ patterns, Master Chief," Adama interrupted. "The symbols on our flags match these constellations."

"This is the map," Apollo said, "the map to Earth."

"Maybe," Adama said, looking expectantly at the Chief. "So is Earth…in one of these constellations?"

"You're standing on it," a woman's voice said behind them. "You're standing on Earth."

They turned and saw a blue figure striding across the grass towards them from behind an obelisk with the Pisces constellation upon it. The Chief recognized his friend.

_She sure knows how to make an entrance._

"Greetings," the figure said, "I am Cortana."

The Colonials all gaped in astonishment. For long moments no one said anything.

"I must thank you, Lt. Thrace," Cortana spoke at length. "Placing the Arrow in the bow was the trigger I needed to activate this Tomb's power supply. It enabled me to initiate the programming for this holographic projection."

"You…know my name?" the pilot whispered, astonished.

"I know each of your names."

The Colonials remained silent in shock. Finally, Roslin found her voice and tentatively asked "Are you…a god?"

Cortana approached so that the party could clearly see her features. "Hardly," she replied, smiling. "This is going to be an unwelcome shock, but I'm an artificial intelligence, an AI."

"AI?" Both Adamas said in unison, their eyes narrowing.

"Yes. Judging by your experiences with the robotic Cylons, I doubt the revelation is pleasing to you."

"How…can you know about the Cylons if you're…an AI in this Tomb?" Billy asked.

"And what would the gods need an AI for?" the Commander asked.

"I'm not a creation of your gods. I was created by Dr. Catherine Halsey, and other scientists at the facility of Reach, a massive UNSC naval base before it was destroyed by the Covenant."

"_UNSC?!"_ Apollo growled. Both he and Starbuck turned to look at the SPARTAN.

"How long have you had this…thing with you?" Thrace said, clearly angry that John had not told her about Cortana. The President turned to glower at the SPARTAN as well.

"The entire time," the Chief replied, keeping his face impassive.

"I asked him not to tell you," Cortana interjected. "I could think of no way at the time that the knowledge of my presence would not throw suspicion upon the Chief, especially since you were still uncertain of his origin, Lt. Thrace. And afterwards, well, the subject never came up so…"

"Frack this," they heard Apollo growl. The Captain brought his weapon up and aimed it at the Chief.

"Lee!" Adama started.

"He's a Cylon, Dad! Think about it! His protectiveness for Sharon! His weapons! He gets us to trust him, we take him and Sharon to the Tomb, then the Cylons have a map to Earth with this AI and…"

"You idiot." Cortana said. Her avatar had turned a shade of green.

"Now you've made her mad." John said, smiling slightly.

There was another flash, and they found themselves within a concrete structure, which was also familiar to the Chief. The image was frozen, but the Chief recognized instantly the figures around him beside the Colonials and Cortana. UNSC Marines ringed the chamber, manning stations, standing guard, some lying around wounded and groaning.

He recognized himself first, then Avery Johnson and Miranda Keyes, both of whom were now dead. The Arbiter stood behind all of them. The group was walking down a flight of stairs inside a command center.

He knew where they were exactly, as he quickly explained to his stunned companions. They were within an old underground bunker in East Africa on Earth, being used as a base of operations against the invading Covenant. Commander Keyes, whom he quickly identified with the other figures in the chamber to the Colonials, was briefing him on what the Covenant were doing on Earth. Cortana added that this was another holo-image, taken from the Chief's mission logs in his suit.

Apollo was staring wide-eyed at everything, pointing his weapon in all directions. "They're holograms, Captain Adama, like myself," Cortana chided, the irritation she felt towards him still evident in both voice and appearance. "They can't hurt you." Lee slowly lowered his rifle.

"Can you play the mission recording related to this image?" the Chief asked.

"Working…yes, the terminal's emitter program is quite advanced."

"Do it."

The characters around them started moving.

"Now the Prophet of Truth is looking for something called the Ark," Keyes stated, "where he'll be able to fire all the Halo rings."

"Prophet of Truth?" Roslin asked

"Halo rings?" Commander Adama asked.

"Freeze it," John spoke. "Truth you'll see momentarily. He was the Covenant's leader. The Halo rings were weapons designed over 100,000 years ago. I can explain more, and we'll be in here all day, or you can just watch."

The Colonials were all gaping, except for Adama. Although wide-eyed, the Commander looked at Cortana and nodded at her to continue. The figures resumed moving.

"If he succeeds, Humanity, the Covenant, every sentient being in the Galaxy…" Keyes continued.

"The Rings will kill us all." John's image finished for her. Roslin and Starbuck both gasped in astonishment.

"Ma'am," a Marine at a terminal spoke up, "I have Lord Hood."

"Patch him through," Keyes commanded.

Lord Hood's wizened image appeared on the screen. Even though the Chief knew the white uniform, the medals, the entire thing was not really there, it still felt good to see Hood again.

Cortana crossed to stand beside her friend. The AI placed a hand on the SPARTAN's arm, and John was startled to feel a warm, electric sensation. "Touch?" he whispered to his friend.

"I don't actually feel anything," the AI whispered in reply, smiling. "It's an effect of the hologram. My hand would actually go _through _you." So saying, she demonstrated it. "See?"

"So now you're practicing being a tease?"

"Good news, Commander Keyes?" Hood's image asked.

"Good as it gets sir," the woman replied.

"So I see," Hood nodded and smiled, looking at the Chief. "What's your status, son?"

"Green, sir," John's image replied.

"Glad to hear it. Commander's come up with a good plan, but without you I wasn't sure we could pull it off."

"Truth's ships are clustered above the excavation site," Keyes explained, "and his infantry has deployed anti-aircraft batteries around the perimeter. But, if we neutralized one of the batteries, punch a hole in Truth's defenses…"

"I'll initiate a low-level strike," Hood finished. "Hit 'em right where it hurts. I only have a handful of ships, Master Chief, it's a big risk, but I'm confident…"

Hood's image abruptly cut out as the power to the base died.

"What happened?" Thrace asked.

"Power drain, prelude to a Covenant attack, which they launched less than 5 minutes later," the Chief replied.

"Hell, not again," a Marine griped.

"Emergency generators, now!" Keyes commanded.

"Shielding failed, they're down and charging," another Marine relayed.

"As soon as they're up, reestablish contact with Lord Hood, let's…" Keyes started.

The Prophet of Truth appeared on the screen above them, on the screens around them, everywhere, and bombastically interrupted the woman.

"You are, all of you, vermin," he sneered. "Cowering in the dirt, thinking, what? I wonder. That you might escape the coming fire? No, your world will _burn_ until its surface is but _glass_, and not even your _demon_ will live to creep, blackened, from its hole to mar the reflection of our passage, the culmination of our Journey. For your destruction is the will of the gods, and I? I _am_ their instrument!"

The image abruptly cut. "Cocky bastard, just loves to run his mouth" Johnson growled as the Master Chief explained to the Colonials who had appeared onscreen.

"Does he_ usually_ mention me?" John's image asked, turning to Keyes. The woman looked at him but didn't reply, then looked at the ground in thought.

"So that's what you meant about the Covenant's name for you," Roslin stated, still staring in awe at the image shown around her.

"Give the order, we're closing shop," Keyes commanded.

"Ma'am?" The nearest Marine, a Comms sergeant, asked.

"We're about to get hit. The wounded, we're getting all of them out." They heard the Comms sergeant issue orders to the base in the background.

"If I have to carry 'em myself," Johnson stated.

"Ma'am, squad leaders are requesting a rally point," the Comms sergeant called as Keyes mounted the stairs. "Where should they go?"

The image of Keyes turned and pulled the action back on her pistol, the same type that the Chief currently had slung by his side. "To war," Miranda said.

"Freeze it," John commanded. The hologram froze once more. "Now we can continue looking through these files, and you'll see the Covenant, you'll see the Flood, you'll see the Ark."

Cortana finished for him, her avatar's color gradually shifting back from green to her normal blue hue. "You'll see more of Earth. Earth scarred by conflict, but still intact. You'll see the Master Chief facing odds you can scarcely believe and not only survive, but _win_. You'll see him rescue me, you'll see the death of Truth, you'll see how we came to be stranded on the wreck of the _Forward Unto Dawn_. But I don't think you'll have the patience to sit through a full week of recordings. But, you can watch them, or, we could determine how to get to Earth. How…to get John and I back home."

Apollo and Billy both gaped at the Chief and Cortana. "Your home is…Earth?"

"Yes, son, it is." Adama replied. "Master Chief John-117 is from the 13th tribe. He's from Earth."

"Actually, John was born on Eridanus II, one of its colonies." Cortana quipped.

"Could you…please bring back…the image of the stars?" Roslin asked the AI.

Again there was a flash, and they were back in the field surrounded by the stone obelisks.

"Stonehenge, right?" John whispered to Cortana.

"Most likely. Looks like the mystery is solved."

Starbuck took a breath and walked forward. "The Scriptures say that when the 13th tribe landed on Earth they looked up into the Heavens and they saw their 12 brothers."

"Actually, this star pattern is not what you see at night," Cortana spoke aloud. "These constellations are all present, but you can't see them from one spot, at one time. There's also many stars missing, Orion, Andromeda, Ursa Major and Minor, and many others are not here."

"But Earth is the place…where you can look up in the sky, and see the constellations of the 12 Colonies." Roslin interjected.

"We call them the Zodiak signs," Cortana added. "1 for each month of the Earth Calendar year. If you're born in a certain month, you have a certain sign. Those born in October, for example, usually are a Libra."

"I thought you said you haven't heard of us." Adama said, looking at the Chief.

"We haven't," Cortana answered for him, "but believe me, I'm just as astounded as you that there is an additional meaning to knowledge we've held for thousands of years. Our knowledge of these signs goes back more than 4,500 years."

"That…predates Colonial history." Roslin said.

"Undoubtedly," Cortana spoke.

"I don't know what good this does us," Starbuck interrupted. "I mean, what are we supposed to do, search the entire galaxy for one particular star pattern? You said you don't know where we are in relation to Earth!" She shook her head as she spoke to the SPARTAN.

"There," Apollo said, pointing, "there in Scorpio, I've seen that before. It's the Lagoon Nebula."

"Astral body M-8," Cortana identified. "Well done. I have it in my astronomical database. It's a long way from Earth."

"From here as well," the Commander replied, smiling. He laughed. The others laughed as well.

"Indeed," Cortana said. "In fact, I think I have a rough idea where we are now."

The image of the stars changed, becoming a spiral pattern that John instantly recognized as the Milky Way. "This is the entire Galaxy, which we call the Milky Way," Cortana continued. "Earth is located here, here is nebula M-8" a bright blue dot for the planet appeared as she spoke, followed by a purple dot. "This means, judging from the direction, that Kobol is somewhere in this region." An arm of the galaxy became bathed in orange light.

"That's pretty big," John said, smirking.

"We don't have this whole area mapped," Adama said, looking up and gesturing with his hand.

"If you let me look at your astronomy database, I can probably figure out our exact location," Cortana replied.

"But at least now we have a map, and a direction," Lee replied, still grinning. His smile faded as he looked back at the Chief. "About you being a …Cylon and pointing my weapon at you…sorry."

John nodded. "Fine. One thing, that's the third time you've pointed a weapon at my head. You ever do it again," he cracked a half smile, "and I'll shove the barrel up your ass." The SPARTAN turned to his AI companion. "Can we take the terminal with us?"

Cortana paused and assumed a thoughtful pose. "Yes, along with a holographic emitter, but there's no power supply. We'll have to find one. I'd like more time to examine any data I find within. Much of the matrices are corroded, unfortunately. I'm surprised the information is in such bad shape…"

Commander Adama stood atop the podium and addressed the crew.

"We have struggled, since the attacks, trying to rely on one another."

John stood in a line of Colonials beside Chief Tyrol, several rows back from the front. His Colonial's Marine's uniform itched at the collar, he longed to loosen it but remained at attention while the Commander continued speaking.

_My commander now_.

"Our strength, and our only hope as a people, is to remain undivided."

_Undivided indeed_.

He looked down at his right bicep, at the Sergeant's chevron which was stitched to his sleeve. He fingered the strap of the black tactical helmet he now wore, looked at the name tag he'd been issued with his uniform.

_Sgt. John Ischoron. Cortana says it means John the Strong in Greek._

The new identity had been the Commander's idea. Before they left the Tomb, Adama and Roslin had spoken for 5 minutes, alone, and told the others that they wished to keep John and Cortana's true origin a secret. Otherwise it was only a matter of time before the Cylons would know that the UNSC, the people of Earth, were out there.

"We haven't always done what we could, to ensure that. Many people believe that the Scriptures, the letters from the gods, will lead us to salvation. Maybe they will."

He thought of the meeting that Adama had called between himself, Roslin, Billy, Apollo, Helo, and Starbuck aboard _Galactica_. The old man had told them he was going to put the SPARTAN in his Marine complement, have him remove his armor, say he was a Colonial Special Forces soldier who had been vacationing on Caprica and was part of Sam's resistance group. The idea had been Thrace's. The others had been sworn to secrecy. Besides Tyrol, only these 6 would know his true identity.

"But the gods shall lift those who lift each other."

Cortana had been returned to her data chip, now resting snugly in the MJOLNIR armor, which alongside the terminal from Kobol was resting in a room that Adama kept under lock, accessible only to himself, the President, and John.

He thought of his new cover. The Special Forces background meant he wouldn't be officially listed in Colonial databanks, which would be why his name wouldn't show up if anyone on _Galactica_ looked for it. It meant he was the best of the best, one of the Colonies' top soldiers, sent on missions the government never acknowledged. And any differences between military protocol between UNSC and Colonial fleet were also explained away should he make a mistake in front of the crew.

_Same difference. I was a Black operator anyway_.

"And so, to lift all of us, let me present once again, the President of the Colonies, Laura Roslin."

His MJOLNIR armor he was to put on occasionally and walk around the ship. Adama wanted to cement the idea that an alien had indeed helped Thrace and Agathon escape Caprica and was staying aboard _Galactica_. John's "quarters" were the room where his armor and Cortana were stowed. He wouldn't speak in his armor, wouldn't talk much, except to the Command staff. The isolation, it would be said, was what the alien had requested, as they took him home. No one would be allowed in.

Chief Tyrol had been ordered by Adama to remain silent about John's identity but did not know his origin. He and another deckhand, Specialist Cally, had been assigned to hook up the pedestal to a power source, with the excuse that it would provide a habitable living space for the "alien" outside of his armor. Their work was still unfinished. John was helping them in his armor.

Roslin mounted the pedestal to respectful, if somewhat muted applause. Adama seemed a little displeased at the shortness of the display, and began clapping his hands in a slow, loud rhythm. The others, slowly at first, joined in. John too, clapped, smiling at Tyrol beside him as he did so.

He thought of the unit he'd been assigned to. Section 4 had been decimated in a recent Cylon attack, where a group of Centurions had boarded _Galactica_ from its starboard flight pod. The SPARTAN had been on Caprica at the time. The group, already at half strength, had been reduced to 4 men. He'd already met his immediate superior now, Gunnery Sergeant Byron Wilkes, commander of all the marines on _Galactica_. Wilky, as his men called him, was gruff, tough, and as old as Adama. He reminded John of Avery Johnson in a way, though the two looked nothing alike. The Gunny hated his nickname but it was too late to change it.

_Probably would have retired 5 months from now if the Cylons hadn't attacked_. _Wilky was only too glad to give me command of a squad. Galactica didn't have any Marine officers. Guess I'll have to get acquainted soon_.

The applause built to a rousing cheer. Roslin smiled atop the podium.

Later, Tyrol offered to show him around the deck. John had asked for a rain check until tomorrow. There was something he had to take care of first.

John knocked on the cabin door. Lt. Gaeta, an officer aboard _Galactica_, had thankfully looked up the names for him. The _Picon 36_ was a civilian transport liner, now hopelessly overcrowded, as were the other ships in the fleet. It wasn't quite a luxury liner, but it wasn't as squalid or dirty as some of the other vessels the Chief had been told about.

"Who is it?" A girl's voice answered.

"Sgt. John Ischoron, ma'am, attached to _Galactica_. Could you open up please?"

The heavy door squealed open, revealing a janitors storage room that had been partly converted into sleeping quarters.

"Kathleen Jennison?" he asked of the blonde teenager who appeared before him.

"Yes?" the girl replied.

"Ma'am, I have some news to tell you. Your father is alive, on Caprica, as part of a resistance movement…"


	16. Part XVI: Shooting Gallery

Part XVI Shooting Gallery

**Part XVI Shooting Gallery**

The report of rifles reverberated in the room. 4 Marines stood at the range, firing at targets with pictures of Centurions plastered on the front. John watched the nearest, a young man in his early twenties, fire several shots, then approached. The dossiers he had read replayed in his mind.

_Private First Class Michael Claudius. Transferred from Battlestar Triton 1 month before the attack. Several disciplinary infractions, fighting, insubordination, all before transfer_. _No citations since the attack_. _High marksmanship ratings, seems to be off today_.

John tapped Claudius on the shoulder. The Marine safetied his weapon, and John placed a hand on the man's trigger hand, moving the index and middle finger down half an inch. The private nodded, and John nodded in return. The Marine's next shot was dead center.

He moved back to stand behind the soldiers on the firing line. Wilky was watching from the door, examining how John was handling his new squad. It was the first time the SPARTAN had met the new men under his command. No formal briefing had been called, no speeches given yet.

He looked down to the end of the line. The Marine there, a small woman who was plain in appearance, was firing a series of bursts and grimacing. John approached her next.

_Lance Corporal Janette McQuinlan. Early 30's. Mother of 2 before the attack. Husband served at Colonial Fleet Headquarters on Caprica. Aboard Galactica 4 years, turned down several transfers and promotions to stay near her family. Current family, son, James, age 9, rescued from the surface by Lt. Valerii's Raptor._

"You should slow down your fire," John commented, looking at the shot groupings of the Marine's rounds.

"Not my fracking fault, Sarge. The sights on the weapon are fracked up."

John held out his hands, wordlessly asking for the rifle. He brought it to his shoulder, aimed down the sights, and fired 3 separate shots, all bullseyes.

"Nothing wrong with that rifle."

John returned to his place behind the firing line as McQuinlan gaped. The female marine then turned, flicked the selector switch on her weapon to semi-automatic, and resumed firing.

His attention next turned to a large man, second from the right, also in his early thirties. Strangely the Marine, having reloaded another clip, was crouching on the floor, firing under the partition separating the targets from the shooters. He walked up behind the soldier, who as almost as large as himself.

_Corporal Omar Fischer. 15 years service. Awarded Gold Nova Medal for actions in ending a hostage crisis on Sagittaron. Requested transfer to Galactica from Battlestar Valkyrie after Adama assumed command. Loyal, thinks the world of Adama. No family. 2__nd__ in command, Section 4, previous commander before my assignment_. _Replaced section leader killed in Cylon incursion 2 weeks prior_.

The Gold Nova Medal appeared to be the equivalent of a Silver Star. John hadn't yet looked up the details of how Fischer had won his medal. "There any reason you're firing like that?" he asked the Corporal.

"Practice, sir. Don't expect to spend much time standing when I'm under fire by toasters."

John cracked a half smile and nodded approvingly. "Carry on."

He turned to his right when he heard a click from the next station over. The weapon wasn't empty, the Marine's rifle simply hadn't fired. John knew why, instantly. It was a hang fire. The problem was the Marine hadn't realized it. He was pointing the weapon sideways, in the direction of McQuinlan, and examining the action.

Quickly John moved over and grabbed the stock of the weapon, pointing it down the range, just before the round finally went off. The heat from the muzzle singed his hand slightly.

_Private George Henick, 19, enlisted 3 months before the attack. Galactica is his first assignment. Excellent grades and athletic skills in school, comes from a poor family on Aerulon. Reportedly enlisted to pay for college. High fitness ratings as expected, cited several times by superiors for "lack of professionalism."_

"Marine," John grated, his harsh voice an octave deeper, "didn't they teach you in basic how to handle a hang fire?"

"Sir?" the Private nervously responded.

"A hang fire. That click meant the propellant in the round failed to ignite. Count to 10, keep the weapon pointed in a safe direction, then _eject the round_." The private nodded repeatedly, anxious to be out from John's glare.

"Y-yes sir!"

"Where'd you get this ammunition?"

"From my locker sir!"

"Your locker? You didn't draw from supply today?"

"No sir! I-I wanted to…experiment with our rounds, sir! See if I could improve the penetration against toasters!"

"You've been keeping them in your locker? Under the same storage conditions in supply?"

"Sir?"

"Private, keeping ammunition out of listed storage conditions causes the propellant to degrade or become contaminated. From now on, if you want to modify your rounds, you will return them to the Master At Arms when you are done your work for the day, understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Report to the starboard hangar deck when you're off duty today. 1945 hours."

"Sir?"

"That's an order."

"Yes, sir!"

_Four Marines. I make 5. Normal section size is 25 and I'd be under a Master or Gunnery Sergeant. Hell_.

He wasn't surprised to learn _Galactica_'s crew was half strength, considering it was being decommissioned just before the attack. He was surprised to learn that the ship's Marine complement was less that a third of its official strength, about 30 men, and this was _before_ the Cylons had boarded. Now it was 24, including John.

The other sections each had 6 men, one of which included Gunny Wilkes, who led Section 1. Technically the highest ranking Marine was Staff Sergeant Hadrian but she had her hands full as the Master At Arms and Supply Sergeant. Routine day to day operations fell to Wilkes. John was 3rd in line for command, behind Sergeant Adrian Ditko, Section 2's leader.

The firing on the line finally ceased, each Marine having fired off their allotted 2 clips of ammunition for the day. Wilky cleared his throat, getting the others attention. "Alright, boneheads, listen up," the old man called in his scratchy growl. The Marines lined up and stood at attention until Wilkes ordered them at ease.

_Boneheads. Not much of an improvement from Jarheads_.

"I figured you babies were getting tired of taking orders from a Corporal," the Gunny continued, "so I've got a new section leader for you. This is Sergeant John Ischoron, lately returned to us from the jaws of Hell by Starbuck, who rescued his ass from Cylon-occupied Caprica. He's Colonial SF, and the Old Man's assigned him to _Galactica's_ Marine detachment. I have it on good authority that Sgt. Ischoron is tougher than titanium nails, and you can all learn a thing or 3 from him. Sergeant?" Wilky gestured from him to step forward.

John folded his hands behind his back and stood ramrod straight. "I don't talk much, I give it straight, and I never repeat myself, so you treat my commands like it's the voice of Zeus," he said calmly, walking down the line and looking each soldier in the eye. "We are the only line of defense between this crew and the Cylons if the toasters board this ship, and we're at 20 strength. That means we have to work 5 times as hard and be 5 times as effective as everyone else. Enjoy today, it's your last under your old training schedule. As of 0500 hours tomorrow we start a new regimen. You will work more, you will sweat more, you will train more than anyone on this ship. Questions?"

McQuinlan raised her hand. John nodded. "Sir, I have a 9 year old son to look after."

"Find a sitter. If you need help, I'll help you locate one. Anything else? Good. Section 4's drawn CIC duty today and we've been assigned to guard the Cylon prisoner. Fischer and Claudius have CIC. McQuinlan and Henick are with me. Report to your stations by 0800. Dismissed.

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Henick was already waiting for him on the deck when John arrived at 1945. The early arrival pleased him. He judged the reports on the soldier accurate, the kid's main problem was his naïveté and inexperience, but he had the makings of an excellent Marine. It was puzzling though, that over 2 months after the attack the man still hadn't shaped up. There had been plenty of oppurtunities.

The latest had occurred when Centurions had boarded the ship from the very flight deck they were standing upon. Section 4 had lost 3 Marines that day, two of whom, Collishaw and Twinam, had died defending Aft Damage Control. Sergeant Franco, Section 4's head at the time, Pvt. Henick and Cpl. Fischer had been the initial fire team encountering the Cylon boarding party. Franco had the misfortunate of being on point and was gunned down by the robots before he could react.

According to Fischer's description of the incident Henick had frozen under fire when he saw Franco's dead body. The Corporal had to forcibly pull the kid back to safety, trying to cover both of them at the same time. Judging from past reports Franco had been a soft touch, acting like a kind father toward Henick. It was a pattern John saw often on _Galactica_, Adama himself having the same reputation.

That was going to change with his unit.

Henick snapped to attention as John approached. "Present arms," he commanded. Henick did as instructed, puzzlement evident in his eyes.

"Repeat after me," John said, remembering the Rifleman's Creed he had heard time after time from UNSC Marines. "This is my rifle…"

"This…is my rifle," the kid started.

"There are many others like it but this one is mine," John continued, Henick restating the words. "My rifle is my best friend, it is my life. I must master it as I master my life. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than any enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will. Before the gods I swear this creed. My rifle and myself are the defenders of my people. So be it, until there is no enemy, but peace."

He'd modified some of the words, removing a large chunk of the middle in the process. But it was basically identical to what he'd been drilled and seen drilled countless times back home. He supposed the Colonials had something similar, but for now, this was unique to Henick. John made the Marine repeat the creed twice.

"Now, Marine, I want to you to drill."

"Sir?"

"Right shoulder, ARMS!" Henick complied. "Right face! Forward march! Left, left, left, a left right left, left, left…" John counted cadence as the Private marched towards the end of the deck, nearing a wall. "Right turn! Left, left, left…" again John counted cadence, again the Private marched until he reached the end of the deck. Again John called "Right turn!" and the process repeated. John kept this up until Henick had made a complete circle.

"Halt! Left turn! Repeat the creed!" Henick started, but John interrupted. "Louder private! Sound off!" Henick complied. When the kid was finished, John explained what he had in store for the young man. "Every time infraction against you is noted by me, or any other officer on board, you will report to this deck when you go off duty, full kit. You will march the perimeter of this space, counting cadence. When you complete a circle, you will repeat the creed I have taught. You will do this for as long as I say, every day that I say, every time you screw up. Is that clear?"

Henick wasn't happy but he simply hollered, "Yes Sergeant!"

"Good. For failing to improperly dispose of a hang fire, endangering your section member, and improper storage of ordinance, you will walk this perimeter for the next hour. You will also do so for an hour tomorrow and the day after. Understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"Walk your post, Marine."

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The schedule John had in store for his command became the talk of shipboard scuttlebutt over the next week. His Marines arrived at the Port Hangar deck every day at 0500 and ran laps around the ship to the equivalent of a 5 mile run. Then they fell out for breakfast, dressed for duty, and assumed their posts, following their normal assignments and drills. When their shift ended, they reported to the Starboard Hangar deck. Initially John had planned on rigorous calisthenics, then another thought had come to mind.

Cortana had suggested, and Adama had approved, building an assault course on the deck. A series of rooms and targets were to be constructed, all lightweight, all movable, for easy rearrangement. His command was in the process of building the layout that Cortana had designed. Instead of wood, the walls were using made using a material the Colonials called Carbon Composite, painted white. John had scheduled 2 hours a day of work until they finished the complex. _Galactica's_ crew already had a name for it: "The Funhouse."

But the Funhouse was designed expressly for training in Close Quarters Battle. Although most of it amounted to what was known as a Killhouse, complete with rooms and targets, a grenade throwing range and a rope climbing apparatus was also in the plans. John had persuaded the Commander to build the design after reading the reports of the Centurion boarding action and a shooting incident aboard a freighter, the _Gideon_. While the entire Marine complement was trained, only a third, including himself, had actually been in CQB exercises, and the inexperience showed.

The Funhouse would remedy that. By the end of the first week the grenade range was complete and they'd finished a few rooms. John was going to make Section 4 spend an hour a day in CQB exercises.

Then one day Adama asked the SPARTAN to meet him in the Commander's office.

"I hear you're pushing Section 4 pretty hard."

"They need it sir."

"We're shorthanded across this ship."

"Nowhere more than your Marine sections, sir."

"They're not super-soldiers Chief. You're going to burn them out."

"If they were SPARTANS, sir, I'd have them working 4 times as hard."

"Be that as it may, I need your Section rested and ready. Ease up a bit. I understand building the Funhouse is an important project, but there's no urgent need to finish it."

"I take it this is an order?"

"Yes. 2 hours a night is cutting into their downtime. 1 hour is the maximum I want them working after their shift. If any want to stay longer, they can volunteer, I have no problems with that."

"In that case, Commander, would you mind if 'our green friend' works on constructing the design during the night? It would make the project go faster." It was code for John appearing in his MJOLNIR suit.

"No, provided you work alone. How's it going hooking up the terminal from Kobol?"

"Slowly. Chief Tyrol needs to scrounge a few parts from around the fleet, some special kind of wiring and a power meter, then figure how to connect them to the terminal and the holographic emitter. As it stands there'll be a noticeable power drain if the emitter is activated, we're trying to find a workaround. You'll have to ask him for the specifics. He's also gathering parts for some kind of project he won't tell me about."

Adama's eyebrow quirked upward at that. "Any ideas what it is?"

"None, sir. Is that all?"

"One more thing. You've looked at the reports of the _Gideon_ massacre?" John nodded. "There's a reporter in the Fleet, D'Anna Biers, who's released live footage of the incident. We're just beginning to heal the wounds from when the Fleet split," John inwardly smiled at the Commander's choice of words to describe the coup d'etat, "and this threatens to blow everything up. President's come up with a pretty good idea. She wants to grant Biers exclusive access to _Galactica_, and use the footage to make a documentary for a Fleet-wide release. I've agreed."

"And our course our green friend will apologize for refusing an interview…"

"Among other things. I don't need to tell you to keep your mouth shut around her. However, I want a team from your section to escort her from her ship to _Colonial One_ and also to _Galactica_. I also want them available should she need them for anything, so she'll know their names and how to reach them quickly. Who can you spare?"

"Fischer and Claudius are my two best men sir, but I'd rather have them on duty since this is going to leave us short even more. That leaves Henick and McQuinlan."

"So you're assigning your 2 worst?" Adama said, looking down the bridge of his nose in an air of slight disapproval.

"Henick will make an excellent Marine once he gets his act together. McQuinlan's got a decent story to tell of caring for a child while serving aboard. Actually that reminds me, sir, there is one thing I'd like to bring up." Adama gestured for John to continue. "McQuinlan needs a sitter to look after her kid, James, when she's training extra hours, and she's having trouble getting a regular. I've got someone in mind, but she's on another ship."

"Who is it?"

"Kathleen Jennison. She's the daughter of a Resistance fighter I met on Caprica, Rally Jennison."

"The Pyramid player?"

"Yeah. Kathleen's been living alone on the _Picon 36_ since the attack. I'd like to move her in with McQuinlan, have her look after James. It'll also let me keep an eye on the teenager. I made Rally a promise to find his family when I left Caprica, and now that I know his daughter is alive I'd like to personally see she stays that way."

Adama pursed his lips in thought and considered. It meant another civilian on board, another body his people had to look after. After a moment he nodded his head and spoke. "She have any useful skills?"

"I haven't asked sir." John smiled. "You looking for another deckhand?"

Adama returned the smile. "Everybody's shorthanded."

"I'll see if she's interested. When will you need Henick and McQuinlan?"

"0830 tomorrow. Have them report to the Port Hangar deck before then. Dismissed."

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Henick wouldn't stop talking during lunch about the reporter. How'd she'd started rolling the instant they left _Colonial One_. How'd she split her team to get more footage. How she wanted to interview _him_, a lowly Marine private.

The kid was clearly smitten. John was wondering if he'd made the right choice in assigning the Private to Biers for the day. He approached the hatch to Sharon's cell, relieving Sergeant Ditko and another man with a scar near his right temple.

_Private First Class Kelso_, John remembered as he nodded to his fellow section leader. "How's the prisoner?" the SPARTAN asked.

"Still sleeping. She's kept the lights dim today. Hasn't made a sound."

"You haven't checked on her?"

"Don't really give a frack Ischoron."

The apathy didn't really surprise him. "Okay Ditko, you're relieved. See you at the mess for dinner." The Marine Sergeant nodded his head and walked away with Kelso.

John assumed his post, Fischer standing to his left. Claudius was on a separate detail, guarding entry to the ship's weapons magazine. As expected, Sharon's daily guest showed up promptly half an hour after Section 4 started its guard shift.

Lt. Agathon was in a small hurry today, but any passerby could see from the light in his eyes that he clearly looked forward to this. Adama had allowed Helo a 5 minute visit every day, to be extended at the Marine guards' discretion. John usually allowed Helo as long as he wanted.

"Sir," John said, saluting, which Agathon returned. He gestured to Fischer, who opened the hatch to the cell. Helo stepped into dark room, a look of puzzlement on his face, and walked over to a phone that connected to another within the cell.

"You got 5 minutes," John spoke, a half smile on his face. Both he and Helo knew the pilot would have as much time as he wanted when John was on guard duty, which was why Agathon made it a point to visit whenever the SPARTAN was watching Sharon's cell.

Helo picked up the phone, but the Cylon remained motionless in bed. The look of puzzlement changed to concern on the pilot's face as his brow furrowed. "Sharon?" Helo called through the glass dividing him from his lover. "It's me! Sharon?" The Cylon rolled over and looked at him, pain in her eyes.

Fischer made a wordless gesture, asking what was going on. John shrugged his shoulders, he didn't know. "Give me a light," Helo commanded.

"Something wrong?" John asked, handing his vest flashlight to the Lieutenant.

"Yeah!" Helo replied, anxiety causing his voice to rise. He turned the light on, point the beam at Sharon's face. The Cylon held up a hand to her face.

John saw it covered in blood.

"Oh, gods," Agathon exclaimed, "call Dr. Cottle! Now!"

The SPARTAN turned to his Corporal. His voice was calm. "Fischer, get sickbay on the horn. Have them get Cottle and a gurney here on the double. The prisoner's sick."

Cottle arrived in a few minutes with a medical team. Quickly they lifted Sharon onto the gurney, strapping her down and placing a sheet over the Cylon's head to hide her identity from view. John and Fischer followed as guards, keeping the corridors clear and motioning other crew members to get out of the way. Cottle asked Helo what had happened, and the pilot described what he'd found when he arrived. The doctor asked if the previous guard team had seen anything, John replied that they'd never checked her the entire day.

The Med team wheeled Sharon into a screened off section of the sickbay and placed the Cylon on a bed. Cottle walked away, moving to a squawk box to call CIC and inform the Commander what was happening. Quickly the technicians removed Sharon's clothing and put a patient's gown on her. The Cylon appeared groggy, but started struggling against them. Helo had to calm her down. Both the SPARTAN and Fischer moved close to the bed, ready to restrain Sharon if she continued to fight.

Cottle returned, opening a portion of the screening. He started examining the blood flowing from Sharon, quickly concluding it was coming from her genital region. That meant there was a problem with her baby, which the doctor muttered under his breath as he continued to examine her. At that Sharon eyes snapped into focus and she began to scream.

"Don't …you…dare…TOUCH ME!!" she cried, and struggled against the Med team. John had to move in and help restrain her.

"Listen…listen to me…" Cottle said, trying to reason with her.

"What are you doing?! STOP IT!!" the Cylon continued to scream. Cottle gestured John back with his hand and grasped Sharon's shoulders.

"Listen to me!" the doctor yelled in turn, momentarily silencing the woman. "I am trying to save your baby!" John felt movement to his left. "Hold her," Cottle said to the Med team as Sharon continued to yell.

They were being watched. There, in the gap in the screens Cottle had left when he entered, was Biers with her video camera, recording everything.

"This is a restricted area!" John said, raising his voice and covering the camera lens. But he already knew it was too late. Sharon had been caught on tape, alive.

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"Report," Adama growled.

"I was in the middle of examining Sharon when that reporter," Cottle gestured to a closed-in screen John was guarding "entered Sickbay. She was following the gurney with Lt. Katraine from the hangar deck. She filmed me treating the Cylon for several seconds before Sgt. Ischoron stopped her. We've kept her under guard since."

"What was wrong with the prisoner?"

"She almost had a miscarriage. Another hour later and she would have lost the baby, but the child is still alive. I barely managed to save it. She's resting over there," Cottle motioned to another screen, guarded by Fischer.

Adama said nothing for several moments, then ordered the SPARTAN to guard Sharon's bed along with Fischer. The Commander opened the screen containing Biers as John moved to stand beside his Corporal. He could hear Helo within the screen, softly talking to his lover, relieved that she and the baby were okay.

"You know, Sharon, we'll still don't have a name for our little girl," the pilot said.

There's wasn't a reply for a moment. "I want something religious," Sharon murmured.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, something that sounds nice."

"Ok, even if it's from false gods?" The tone was joking. There wasn't a reply. "How about Aphrodite?"

"Too long. Aphrodite Agathon? AA? Now I _know_ I'm smarter than you." Sharon's voice was soft, still weak from her ordeal.

"Well, we've got time at least."

A moan from Lt. Katraine interrupted their reverie as the pilot struggled against her restraints, even while heavily sedated. Adama opened the screen containing Biers and approached John. He took the SPARTAN aside and spoke in a low voice.

"I think your friend should make an appearance."

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The incident with Sharon was only the beginning of the fun. "Kat" Katraine's overdose and Sharon caught on tape would have been enough to keep scuttlebutt busy for the next week, but the next day's events sent it into overdrive.

John had dressed in his MJOLNIR armor after lunch and walked around the ship drawing wide-eyed stares from the crew as the behemoth moved among them. He had no plan in mind, just a visit to the Port hangar and CIC to "stretch his legs," as he explained to the officers present.

That was the public story. In reality the plan was for Biers to get a glimpse of him. He smiled beneath his visor. He could imagine the reporter's thoughts when seeing him; she'd no doubt already heard the rumors. _Galactica harbors the first alien the Colonies have made contact with. And D'Anna Biers gets the first exclusive interview. It's too good an opportunity for a headline hound to pass up_.

Adama and he had everything scripted. The reporter would see him in the hallway, ask who and what he was (and the nearby crew would obligingly tell her), then she'd rush to interview him right then and there.

Which was what she was doing now. "Sir, sir, sir!" The reporter called, trailing behind him with a camera. The Chief turned. "Yes?" he asked.

"Enthusiastic isn't she?" Cortana chimed in his ear. He'd filled her in on the previous day's events when he'd woken up, as usual.

"D'Anna Biers, Fleet News Service. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."

"Ah, the reporter," John said, purposely trying to sound academic. "I've heard your filming something called a documentary? That's the term this ship's Marines used. What is it?" He could feel Cortana smiling again when she quipped "Nice touch." Of course he knew what a documentary was.

"It's a news piece about life aboard _Galactica_, with live footage of events I've recorded, interviews with ship personnel, and my own voice narrating."

"Sounds interesting."

"But considering your…_unique_…status I was wondering if you'd consent to an interview."

"I'm flattered by the offer, Ms. Biers, but I'm afraid I must decline."

"But…"

He turned on his heel and continued walking, leaving the reporter flummoxed.

Later, John had donned his Marine's uniform and was heading back to his post when the Condition 1 alarm sounded throughout the ship. He quickened his pace to a jog as he headed for the CIC.

"Incoming Cylon Raiders, this is not a drill, repeat, action stations action stations!" he heard Lt. Gaeta's voice declare over the intercom. Claudius was already there, forming the other half of their guard tandem outside CIC. John was on station barely 10 seconds when Biers flew past them with her camera into CIC. No doubt she was going to get some great shots.

Provided _Galactica's _Viper fighters could shoot down the Raiders before they called for help.

For once in his life, John was forced to listen to the action, instead of being right in the thick of it. Adama put his pilots on speaker so the ship could hear what was going on out there. The SPARTAN recognized the voices of Starbuck and Apollo, alongside two other pilots he'd yet to meet.

He stood stoically at attention outside, listening to the dogfight raging in space. 2 teams of Vipers targeted each enemy fighter. 1 of the Raiders quickly managed to turn the tables of a Viper belonging to a pilot nicknamed Hot Dog, but Thrace shot the bandit down. The other Viper pair with Apollo then made short work of the remaining hostile craft. It was over in less than a minute.

John found himself a little tense, but mainly it was because he was forced to sit on the sidelines. The Chief had been through worse, much worse. He saw the stony expression set on Claudius' face and knew that the other humans aboard found the experience nerve-wracking. That 1 minute probably felt like an hour. 2 Raiders were usually the vanguard of something bigger.

"This is the Commander," Adama's voice crackled from the speakers. "Cylon Raiders were intercepted and destroyed. Good work people."

"Roger that, _Galactica_," Starbuck replied over the com, "let's head back to the bird barn."

The alarm klaxons ceased, and an announcement came over the intercom to return to Condition 3. Adama appeared from the CIC door, head down in thought as he walked away from John and Claudius. Moments later, Biers appeared through the door, running after the Commander and calling Adama's name. The old man turned.

"I saw your new guest earlier today, the alien," the reporter said, coming to a halt in front of the man.

"And?"

"He declined my request for an interview. Commander, could you _please_ speak to him?" John barely succeeded in hiding a grin as the woman began to plead. "It's our first contact with an alien species! I _have _to be able to speak to him."

"He's a very private individual."

"So it is a he."

"Ms. Biers, the alien is not under my command. He's simply staying on board this ship."

"But surely you could talk to him, try to persuade him to give an interview."

"Perhaps. But I'm going to need you to do something for me in return."

"Anything!"

Adama held out his hand. "The tape with the footage of the Cylon. The real one this time."

"But I already…" Adama cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, as though he was telepathically saying _please_. Biers grimaced and glared, then withdrew a storage device hidden within her shirt and handed it to the Commander.

"I'll see what I can do," the man said, smiling slightly. "It'll be several weeks though." He pivoted and walked down the corridor. John turned and hid the smile he'd lost the battle to hide.

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Between the Cylon attack, John strolling around in his MJOLNIR suit, and the apprehension of Lt. Palladino for assaulting Colonel Tigh, shipboard gossip was fit to burst. Henick couldn't stop talking about how Biers had figured everything out and grabbed him and McQuinlan, taking them to Tigh's quarters.

John had to ask about Palladino. The Lieutenant had been in charge of the Marine detachment during the shooting on the _Gideon_ before the SPARTAN came aboard. Henick related how Tigh had apparently talked Palladino down from holding a gun to the Colonel's head. Biers had noticed the Lieutenant reading a book of poetry from a Caprican poet called Kitaris, and had deduced that Palladino was the one responsible for several threatening messages left in Tigh's quarters.

All of Section 4 were eating dinner together a few days after Biers had left. They were in the enlisted mess with several other deckhands but the room was deserted for the most part. John as usual wasn't saying much. He would tell something about himself when the others asked, that he was an orphan, that he was born on Caprica, a fabricated story of how he fell in with Anders' Resistance.

All of it was a lie, of course. As far as he knew his parents were still alive. He was born on Eridanus II. He'd crashed on Caprica. But he couldn't tell his men that. It bothered him slightly to lie, but he saw it as necessary. To keep things straight, he'd taken to saying as little as possible. The others talked around him, he'd nod, smile, laugh a little.

He was starting to like this group. Fischer seemed like a consummate professional, always giving 110 percent. McQuinlan was very down to Earth and pragmatic, and the men wasn't far off when they called her "Mom," as the Lance Corporal acted much the same towards Claudius and Henick. George himself was fairly boisterous, and his spirits were always up no matter.

Claudius seemed as quiet as John at the table. He was the only one hard to figure out. _Perhaps he's still grieving over a lost loved one_.

A deckhand, Specialist Lyman, whom everyone called Jammer, appeared at the door. "Hey, what are you guys doing? Biers' documentary's being broadcast. You're missing it!" The young man crossed to a viewing monitor and turned it on.

Lt. Katraine appeared on the screen, looking very haggard. "There are no replacements coming up, there's no downtime, this is it," the woman shook her head and spoke. "So I started taking stims."

"You made a mistake, it happens," Biers voice said.

"Except now my flight's a pilot short. Those guys, they're just as tired and they're just as messed up as I was, but they're still laying it on the line. I worked my _ass_ off defending this fleet. I've been…I've been frustrated, I've been angry, I've been everything that you can possibly think of! This is the first time that I felt…ashamed." Tears welled in the pilot's eyes.

John watched the screen with the others. He'd seen, known, felt the kind of bone weary fatigue that Katraine was describing. It came from being in the line too long and the Lieutenant was another example. The Marines near him began getting emotional themselves, McQuinlan and Fischer were both biting their lips.

The documentary went on, showing life aboard _Galactica_. The pilots were there, the Marines were there, the deckhands were there, in interviews, in candid shots, at work, resting. John was surprised at how even-handed and respectful the treatment was, his impression of the reporter was been of a woman who always went for the killer headline.

Everyone in the room was rapt at attention when Biers concluded in a voiceover with several clips of footage.

"I came to _Galactica_ to tell a story," the woman spoke. "In all honesty I thought I knew what that story was before I ever set foot there: how an arrogant military let their egos get in the way of doing their jobs, safeguarding the lives of the civilian population. But I found out that the truth was much more complex than that. These people aren't Cylons, they're not robots blindly following orders and polishing their boots, they're people. Deeply flawed, yes, but deeply human too and maybe that's saying the same thing. What struck me most was that despite it all, despite the hardships, the stress, the ever present danger of being killed, despite all that they _never_ give up. They never lie down in the road and let the truck run them over. They wake up in the morning, put on their uniforms and do their jobs, every day, no pay, no rest, no hope of _ever_ laying down the burden and letting someone else do the job.

There are no relief troops coming, no Colonial Fleet training new recruits every day. The people on _Galactica_ are it. They are the thin line of blue that separates us from the Cylons. Lt. Gaeta told me a remarkable statistic: not a single member of _Galactica's_ crew has asked to resign, not one. Think about _that_. If you wore the uniform wouldn't you want to quit? To step aside and say 'Enough, let someone else protect the Fleet?' I know _I_ would, but then I don't wear a uniform. Most of us don't, and most of us never will."

The documentary began its ending with fanfare of what John had learned was the anthem of the 12 Colonies and a shot of pilots descending some stairs in a hallway. "The story of Galactica isn't that people make bad decisions under pressure," Biers continued, "it's that those mistakes are the _exception_. Most of the time the men and women under Commander Adama get it right. The proof is that our Fleet survives, and with _Galactica _at our side we will _endure_. This is D'Anna Biers, Fleet News Service."

The Marines around him were smiling slightly, feeling honored. He didn't blame them. It was a stirring tribute for human soldiers.

For a SPARTAN, being on the line, day after day without a break was routine. It was another reminder to the Chief that all his capabilities, his strength, his speed, his skill, his history, all drove a wedge separating him from his compatriots. _The more things change…_

"What'd you think, Sarge?" Henick asked, turning to him.

"I think a lot of the credit for how _Galactica_ does goes to the old man," he paused, "with a little assist from us." He smiled, the others did as well, then he continued. "Really, the commander of a ship's the one who puts the crew together, makes it function. There are good people here, but they're here because of the Commander." He looked pointedly at Fischer as he spoke, the Corporal nodded at the compliment.

"Nice to know the Fleet realizes what a tough job it is protecting their collective ass everyday," McQuinlan joked.

"Our job…" John muttered. He'd realized the others were looking at him again, and spoke up, remembering some words of his trainer in the SPARTAN-II program, Chief Petty Officer Mendez. "The guy who trained me, and the other CSF guys in my unit, told us that our job was to kill the enemy, period. You asked him who the enemy was, and he'd say whoever and whatever we're told. You asked him how we were gonna kill the enemy, and he'd say any way we can."

The others were silent, reminded once more about the difference between their backgrounds and their leader's. "One job leaves you feeling like a noble guardian, the other you feel like a butcher. Truth is, people like us, who spill the blood in the mud, are both."


	17. Part XVII: The Ship Has a Cold

Part XVII The Ship Has a Cold…

**Part XVII The Ship Has a Cold…**

"Gods dammit this fracker's heavy!" Fischer grunted, lifting the heavy carbon strut with Henick.

"Almost there," John growled, lifting another strut with Claudius. He contorted his face into a grimace, pretending he could barely lift the heavy object. The two struts met with a _crump_, the carbon plastic joints scraping as they fitted together. "Okay Jan…now!"

McQuinlan fitted a bolt through the loop formed by the strut joints and hammered the cylinder in place. _Finished_.

Section 4 stepped back, admiring their handiwork. After 3 weeks hard labor they'd finally completed the Funhouse. 2 stories tall, with moving targets, 10 rooms in all, stairs, a grenade range, it was an impressive accomplishment. A few of the deck hands had pitched in here and there, and John himself had done some heavy lifting in his MJOLNIR armor, but he had to give his men a lot of credit. It was a job well done.

"You guys feel like celebrating?" Fischer asked.

There was a pause. Henick looked at the construction, an eager gleam in his eyes. "Actually Sarge," the young man cracked a half smile, "mind if I take a wack at the course? Christen this bastard?"

"Hell yeah!" McQuinlan whooped. Even Claudius smiled and nodded.

John pursed his lips. "Why the frack not?" he spoke. "Henick!" John hollered, "grab your kit and load paint rounds! I want you at the start line in 5 minutes! Move!" He half smiled. The Private saluted and ran off, grinning wildly.

"Show us what ya' got Georgie!" Janette whooped.

"I'm next," Claudius said in a low voice.

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"I still can't believe you beat Claudius' run last night," Fischer said, smiling. "Now I owe Jan an Ambrosia shot. Where the hell am I going to find a fresh bottle of the stuff?"

"That's what you get for bettin' against me Omar," Henick returned the grin.

"It's paid off before. Even a broken clock…"

"Is right twice a day, yeah, yeah."

John smiled but his back was to the two of them. The 3 Marines were approaching CIC, their guard station for the next 3 hours, passing by one of _Galactica_'s firing ranges after drawing their weapons for the day. John still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling he had holding the Colonial rifle in his hands. His palms itched to hold his MA5C instead, having seen firsthand how ineffective some of the Colonial weapons were against Centurions.

"You hear about Chief Tyrol?" Henick asked the Corporal.

"What, Tigh throw him in the brig again?" Fischer replied.

"He's building some kind of ship," John answered. Tyrol had finished hooking up the Forerunner terminal a few days ago, and now that it was finished he had started a new project. Tyrol seemed to be a mechanic who needed to keep busy.

John was going to give both Adama and Roslin a full briefing about himself, the Human-Covenant War, the Forerunner, everything, a day from now. It was scheduled to take place during Galactica's 3rd watch, when most of the crew, and the fleet, would be sleeping.

"Thought you didn't care about any scuttlebutt Sarge," Henick spoke.

"With your mouth Private it's impossible not to hear the latest. Maybe you ought to join Fleet News Service as a Gossip Columnist."

Fischer let out a derisive laughing snort as they continued walking.

John heard a crash and an explosion behind him, followed by a whoosh of air. Instinctively he and his men ducked, turning towards the source of the commotion, weapons at the ready. Decompression sirens wailed as the door to the firing range they had passed flew inward.

John gripped the bulkhead automatically, knowing that he couldn't maintain a strong enough grip to prevent being sucked into space, which he expected initially. Then he remembered that no part of the firing range bordered the exterior hull of the ship. The only way for a vacuum to occur in that room would be for the air to be vented out. He signaled his companions to get behind him and swiftly approached the door, peering within.

3 pilots, Thrace, Adama and another pilot, whom John remembered as Ensign Costanza, lay on the floor, crumpled in a heap and barely conscious. Costanza was actually out cold. Starbuck and Apollo were inhaling rapidly and laughing, obviously dizzy from oxygen depravation. "Are you alright sir?" John asked, kneeling in front of Apollo.

"N…no…Che…Sergeant," Starbuck replied. John flinched inwardly when Thrace almost said his real rank. "Room…was…losing oxygen…so I…had some fun…with the…fireworks." She giggled.

"Fischer, get Sickbay on the horn, get a Med team down here on the double," John commanded, turning. It was obvious the pilots weren't in any shape to give orders. He looked at Apollo again, waiting a moment for the Captain to regain his senses. "Did someone accidentally mess with the sensors?"

"No…no…Sergeant. Nothing…don't know why…" Apollo replied.

John heard numerous footsteps behind him. The room rapidly filled with deckhands and the Med team. He ordered his squad outside to give the technicians room to work. Answers would come later. He ordered his men to their post as the lights flickered and sputtered in the hallway.

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He hefted the printout in his hands as he walked behind the Commander. _Page upon page on computer code readouts, technical information, just to find a virus_. Adama had already conferred with Lt. Gaeta and the Vice-President, Dr. Gaius Baltar, whom John had yet to meet. He found it strange that an acknowledged computer expert and scientist would be a major official in government, but considering what the Fleet had been through he supposed Baltar was the best they had.

Adama halted at the door to John's quarters and keyed in the door code. The lock clicked and the old man pushed the door open, stepping into a small antechamber that was supposed to be an airlock, which was a lie of course. A storage room lay beyond, but the Commander had gone to some lengths to create the illusion of a sealed alien environment. Within lay the Forerunner terminal, which Cortana now resided in, John's Mjolnir suit, and a small bed.

Adama pressed a button on an intercom connected solely to a speaker inside the room. "Cortana, this is Commander Adama with the Master Chief. We have something we want you to look at." He pressed another button below the speaker, and the "airlock" door opened with a hiss. A whisp of purple smoke appeared in the doorway as the two stepped through.

"Purple smoke?" Adama commented, as Cortana's image in the room smiled. She appeared as to be the same height as a typical woman, but the visage was still completely blue.

"Part of an argon-methane atmosphere. I believe the unique color will suit our purposes admirably."

Adama simply grunted, then replied "We've got a printout of our computer systems we'd like you to take a look at."

"Why?"

It was John who answered. "They think there's a Cylon virus on the ship. Environmental systems have been malfunctioning, lighting's been pretty screwy, there's also been 'random' unauthorized transmission bursts."

"Put the list on the floor by the terminal," the AI commanded. The Chief complied, backing away as a blue beam sprung forth from the terminal, covering the pages of the printout. The light worked its way back and forth over the paper.

"You're systems are…primitive, Commander."

"Deliberately so," the old man replied. "This ship was designed with retrofitted systems. During the first Cylon war, we found that they were able to hack our computers remotely with a transmitted AI…"

"So you split your control programs into separate entitities, without a central network. A good countermeasure but…"

"Less automation," John finished, "which means a larger crew."

"But the programming language is so…" Cortana huffed, which John knew as a sign of annoyance. "This is something a 10 year old would write. It's so simplistic, UNSC programs are Rembrandt's compared to this!"

"Rembrandt?" Adama asked.

"A famous Earth artist," John supplied. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Working," Cortana said emotionlessly, but her color was gradually shifting to green. The Chief knew that 5 years ago she would have completed the scan, found the virus, and determined a solution in the time they had spent talking. _She's as damaged as she told me_, he realized, remembering the conversation they'd had on the surface of Kobol, _and it bothers the hell out of her. Christ, I'd probably be throwing crates against a wall in frustration if I lost the use of my legs. Better talk to her soon…_.

"Looks like Mr. Gaeta networked the computers…ah." Cortana spoke, her hue changing back to blue. "Here we are. There definitely _is_ a virus, and it's grown quite large. It's present in all your systems in fact, looks like it infiltrated 2 months ago when _Galactica_ networked its computers for jump coordinates."

"Yes, Gaeta built several firewalls to prevent a Cylon virus from penetrating the ship systems…" Adama growled. John remembered the report about this incident. Adama had been comatose on an operating table at the time, critically wounded by the Cylon Boomer's assassination attempt. G_alactica _had been separated from the rest of the Fleet by mistake and had jumped back to a location with known enemy contacts, networking its computers to quickly determine the missing ships' location. A virus had broken through the firewall, but it was thought eradicated.

"When you broke the network, the virus, which looks like a form of logic bomb, was temporarily weakened," Cortana continued. "It's been gaining strength, testing itself, seeing which systems it could affect before…wait. This isn't just a virus. It's an AI entity. The transmissions are communications!" Cortana's shade again changed back to green, this time in obvious fear as the pitch of her voice rose. "Commander, this program has been receiving _instructions_! It's going to wreak havoc aboard ship as a prelude to an imminent Cylon attack!"

Adama chewed his lip, his eyes widened slightly. His voice was just as gruff. "How long?"

"Unknown, but _very, very_ soon. The virus is strong enough to shut down the ship _now_ if it wants too."

"So how do we kill it?" the Chief spoke up. "What if we networked the computers, introduced you into the system…"

Adama's head snapped towards the SPARTAN. "No." The statement was emphatic.

"That won't work, Chief," Cortana replied, ignoring the Commander's emotional response. "The moment a network is completed the virus will assume complete control of the ship. We'd be giving it exactly what it wants, and there's no telling what damage it could do before I could counteract it. It would have more than enough time to vent the ship's atmosphere, or turn _Galactica's_ guns on the Fleet, or anything else."

"What if we took apart each system separately, starting with environmental controls, then weapons systems, engines…" John started.

"That would take too long. Believe me, Chief, Commander, you've got _hours_ before this virus acts, a day at most." The AI paused, looking at the Commander, whose face was set in a stony stare at the wall behind the terminal. "I know you don't completely trust me, Commander Adama, and I know you feel a strong distaste for me because of what I am, but you must listen. If anyone could come up with a solution for this, it's the only person on board who's an expert in Cylon programming."

Adama looked at the floor, his expression changing to a complete glower. "Sharon," the man spoke, his voice grating like rocks over metal.

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"We're not going for maneuverability Captain, we're going for speed," Thrace commented, working away at a set of wires on Tyrol's ship. "Besides," she continued with a smirk, "you didn't think this thing would fly any way."

"At least you've got the frame intact," John commented, walking up to the pilots and saluting, which Apollo returned.

"Well it sure as hell won't with a cockpit rammed up its a– Dee?!" the Captain started, looking underneath the vessel as Petty Officer Dualla, a member of the bridge crew, appeared.

"Hey!" the woman said with a smile.

"Ah…what are you doing here?"

"Communications, I think," Dualla replied, working on another wiring bundle. "Chief's great with the hydrolics, but this Comm system's a mess."

"What you doin' down here, Sarge?" an old deckhand, Figurski, asked John as he sat atop the fuselage.

"Looking for Kathleen. McQuinlan's switched shifts with Kelso so she could get the next day off, spend some time with her son, but she's gotta report for duty in 20 minutes."

"I gotta watch the brat _again_?" a girl's voice whined. Kathleen's blonde head appeared from behind the engines, her face smudged with grease. John smothered a smile.

"Would you rather be back on the Picon-36?" the SPARTAN replied.

"Please, get rid of her!" Figurski moaned. "She's already fried one wiring panel and bent 3 gears!"

"Cost us a day already," Tyrol spoke, coming around the port wing and grinning as the teenager huffed. He walked up to John and lowered his voice, still grinning. "She's a pretty fast learner though. I'll turn her into a grease monkey in no time."

"But she's got a more important job," John answered within earshot of Kathy carefully keeping his face neutral, "keeping a 9 year old from running wild aboard ship."

Tyrol's eyes widened in mock horror. "By all means, take her! That's the deadliest threat we could face!"

"All Jimmy ever wants to do is _talk about ma daddy_." The teen spoke up, concluding her statement in an excellent imitation of her father's drawl. Her eyes rolled upward as she continued speaking in the accent. "How ma daddy scored 12 points against Aerulon, how he single handedly caused a failed break in a playoff game, what he eats for breakfast 'fore a game." She looked John in the eyes. "It's driving me nuts!" she went on, dropping the drawl. "Jan has to report in 20 minutes right? 15 more here, _please_?"

"5," John bargained.

"13," Kathleen countered.

"7," came the riposte.

"10."

"Deal."

Figurski looked to his right then muttered to the rest, "Ten hut…"

Colonel Tigh swaggered onto the hangar deck, looking at the craft under construction with an open air of disdain as the lights flickered. "Had to see this with my own eyes," he grated, his voice a much harsher tone than Adama's. While the old man's deep voice had a warm inflection to its growl, Saul Tigh's was anything but friendly. It suited the man perfectly. Tigh's only real friends were his wife and Commander Adama, which was the way he liked it. _Typical tough XO,_ John had thought when he first met the man, _figures if any of the crew has a warm thought about him he's not doing his job_. Adama may have been a soft touch, but Tigh was galvanized steel.

"Won't be long before we have the whole CIC down here," the Colonel continued, looking over Tyrol's project as he walked around it. "You working on this class project too, Apollo?"

"No," the Captain replied, hands in his pockets and shifting his stance uncomfortably.

"It's good to see someone has a little sense." He looked past John and Kathleen. "Where's the Chief?"

"He was here a second ago," Figurski supplied, "he's probably still around." Tigh sauntered off to the deck's nearby storage room.

"You've got 9 minutes," John said to Kathleen.

"What? That's not fair, I stopped work to look at the Colonel!"

John repressed another grin, keeping his face impassive, the tough, gruff exterior he exuded both in an out of his armor. _If Jan's Section 4's mom, then James is definitely its adopted son, and Kathleen's quickly becoming its daughter_.

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_Collar's a little tight, but I don't think Ditko gives a shit_.

He walked in front of Sharon, motioning _Galactica_ crew out of the way as the Marine detachment escorted the Cylon to CIC. Sections 2 and 4 were behind and in front of the prisoner, respectively, while Sections 1 and 3 formed guard teams along the halls, making sure no one pulled a stunt and tried to shoot Sharon, a repeat of an earlier incident when Boomer was killed.

The looks of naked hatred didn't surprise him. He remembered the faces of some UNSC personnel as they saw the Arbiter walk amongst them, as the Sangheili fought side by side with their former enemies. Even then, the humans didn't trust the Elites fully, and the feeling was mutual. _Necessity makes strange bedfellows_, he mused, as they turned a corner.

He opened the door to the command center, motioning for the Marines and the prisoner to step through ahead of him. The crew inside were wide eyed with a mixture of fear and anger. Again, he was not surprised, as the last time any of them had seen Sharon's face in the room her "sister" had put two bullets in Adama's chest. The Old Man himself kept his eyes narrowed, clearly restraining the rage he felt toward this Cylon model.

For a moment everyone, _everything_, was still. Then Sharon looked around and spoke. "We need to work quickly. We're on borrowed time."

Adama paused, looking around the room, then turned back to the Cylon. "Let her go," he growled.

"Yes sir," John answered and stepped forward, removing the cuffs from Sharon's ankles and wrists. Claudius likewise removed the collar's holder from her neck.

"Dee," Sharon said, turning toward the Comm officer, "do you still carry your father's pocketknife?"

Dualla's eyes widened in shock and she looked at the Commander, silently asking if she should comply.

"Give it to her," Adama growled again.

The Petty Officer removed the knife from her back pocket, reluctantly handing a weapon to an enemy. Sharon took the knife and walked over to dashboard used to plot layouts, maneuvers, and other things. "Mr. Gaeta, can you set me up with fiber-optic cable?" The Cylon asked. "I need to broadcast to all frequencies and direct contact to the mainframe."

Now Gaeta looked at Adama, silently asking if _he_ should comply.

"Do it," the Commander ordered. The Lieutenant quickly pulled out a wire and handed it to the Cylon, who awkwardly thanked him. Sharon cut off the tip of the cable, then an alarm klaxon sounded.

"Dradis, here they come!" Gaeta shouted. "Multiple contacts, bearing 371, carom 552, Cylon raiders!"

_Cortana was right. Hours indeed_.

"Bastards tracked us alright," Tigh opined, eyes wide.

"Launch Vipers," Adama commanded.

"Apollo, the raiders are holding," a pilot's voice said over the intercom. Sharon, meanwhile, was slicing open her palm with Dualla's knife.

"_Galactica, _Apollo, raiders are holding formation, repeat raiders are holding formation," the Captain's voice confirmed. To the disgust of the crew around her, Sharon cut a hole in her hand with the knife and was bleeding onto the floor in obvious pain.

"Okay, this is how it's going to work," the Cylon spoke up, fighting through the agony. "The raiders are gonna send a signal to activate the virus. It could take a few seconds. On my mark, initiate the computer wipe."

_Computer wipe?!_ John thought in horror. _That means we lose all the astronomical and navigational data! No!_ He risked a glance at the Commander, but the Old Man's face was set in a glare, warning the SPARTAN to remain silent. _No astronav data…it's gonna take us a helluva long time to find our way home!_

"Miss the window…" Sharon continued.

"…the virus takes over every system in the ship," Gaeta concluded for her, rushing to his station.

"Sometimes you gotta roll the hard 6, right Commander?" Sharon said, looking at Adama, who didn't reply.

_I thought the expression was roll a hard eight, _John thought, as the Cylon inserted the cable into her hand with a grunt of pain. _I knew it was going to take a long trip, but now…_

"What the hell is she doing?" Tigh muttered, no longer able to conceal his disgust.

"They've made contact sir," Dualla said.

"It's moving too fast, I can't follow it!" Gaeta reported.

"You gotta stop this!" Tigh spoke aloud, directly at Adama. The SPARTAN found himself echoing the Colonel's statement in thought.

"Stand by to execute computer wipe on my command!" the Commander declared.

"System is ready sir," Gaeta stated.

"Wipe the hard drives now!" Sharon shouted.

"Do it." Adama ordered.

_Now it's all gone_.

"Commencing," Gaeta replied. All the ship's systems went dead.

"My gods, what are they doing?" Starbuck's voice sounded over the intercom. For a long moment, nothing happened. They waited in silence

"Weapons are still offline, no DRADIS, systems down, we're looking at a gods' damn BLOODBATH!" Tigh finally hollered. "We're _defenseless!_"

"Apollo, Hotdog, here they come!" Costanza yelled over the radio.

"Alright, copy, Hotdog," Apollo replied.

Sharon stood motionless, her eyes rolled upward so only the whites could be seen. "Cylons are still moving in," Tigh shouted, "she _set us up_!"

Adama walked over next to Ditko. "Give me your sidearm," he commanded, and received the weapon in his hand. The Commander pointed it at Sharon's head. "If they're coming for you they're going to be very disappointed," he growled at the Cylon.

"Do it!" Tigh shouted. "What are you waiting for?!"

"This." Sharon answered. The lights within CIC came back to life as the Cylon sagged to the floor. She yanked the cable from her arm, exhausted.

"What the hell?" the Colonel asked.

"We just transmitted a signal," Gaeta reported.

"Uh, _Galactica_," Apollo spoke over the comm, "they-they seem to have lost power, they're drifting out of control!" The Captain was ecstatic, laughing at the end of his transmission.

"What the hell?" Tigh repeated.

"Cylons sent a computer virus, but we just sent one back," Adama answered, looking down at Sharon and surmising what she had done.

Tigh picked up a comm-phone. "Apollo, this is _Galactica_, kill the bastards," the Colonel ordered.

The sounds of gunfire came over the speaker seconds later, as the Viper pilots whooped and hollered. Never before and never again would they have they opportunity in front of them, a turkey shoot of hundreds of Cylon raiders. John imagined the scene in space, as the Vipers dove among the twisting hulks like avenging angels, blowing up machine after machine in a fireworks show amidst deep space.

The SPARTAN looked over at Adama, whose gaze had never left Sharon. Incredibly, the Old Man smile slightly as he looked at the Cylon. "Officers, take this thing back to its cell," Adama commanded.

John moved closer to reattach the shackles. _Looks like Sharon's gained a measure of trust. But… what in hell are Cortana and I going to do?_

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"Of course you lost contact, it's a damn stealth ship remember?" Starbuck radioed.

The deck crew smiled and clapped and Kathleen let out a whoop on the deck. John watched from above, looking down at the assembled group who constructed the new, and now successful, Blackbird fighter. The name was appropriate, given that the craft was skinned in black carbon composite. Helo had suggested the idea after viewing the new Funhouse.

His thoughts wandered. Soon enough Kathleen Jennison would be writing her name on the side of the ship she helped build. Soon enough the teen would be working on other crafts side by side with the rest of the crew. She was turning out all right.

_But the astronav data…that was our map home. Without it we don't know where we are now without it!_

The road to Earth was still planned, they knew what direction to head. But without the Colonial star charts, Cortana wouldn't know where to begin. In effect, they'd have to pick a general direction and hope for landmarks.

And space was a very big place. Tomorrow, in his briefing, John would show Adama and Roslin just how big the galaxy _really _was.

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Next: The Chief introduces his new friends to his old enemies, and…PEGASUS!


	18. Part XVIII: Line Up The Target

Part XVIII Line Up The Target

**Part XVIII Line Up The Target**

**Note to the readers:** I've written an extensive summary of the Covenant and the end of the Human-Covenant war. If you've played the games, you know most of this plot already, I've fleshed it out with a little more detail from background information. You can skip it if you like, but I repeat the history here because it has bearing on the overall story (yes I know, a reveal, but I don't want to unnecessarily bore you, and besides, I enjoy seeing the things you guys guess in your reviews).

But anyway, on with the next chapter!

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The Brute roared as its packmate fell from a shotgun blast. With a snarl, it dropped its Plasma Rifle and charged, bowling over a crate and sending a grunt in the way flying.

The Chief waited until the last possible moment, and dove sideways, reloading the shotgun on the fly as the creature lunged. It turned, fangs bared, ready to claw the SPARTAN in two. A hairy forearm lashed outward, seeking to separate his head from his torso.

He ducked again, this time ramming the butt of his weapon into the thing's midsection. The Brute grunted and staggered backward, its face set in a grimace of frustration, which was erased when the Chief blew its head off with another slug from the M90.

"As you can see, the aggressiveness of the Jiralhanae species is both a strength and a weakness, which the Chief used to great effect here," Cortana commented, her voice narrating the images surrounding Adama, Roslin, and John.

"These…Grunts seem _very_ cowardly," Roslin added, watching a group scatter and run, arms waving in distress and crying in their trademark whine. The scene had repeated several times already in the recording.

"Yeah, we picked up on that early on. Pop the squad leader or a bigger Covenant threat, and they freak," John answered.

"Yet they're the most numerous of these…things," Adama growled, but his expression belied how disturbed the old man was.

Both Colonials had never before seen anything like the multitude of species comprising the Covenant. In a word, the aliens were monstrous. The Brutes were large, hairy, and apelike, with a set of fangs that would frighten the devil himself. The Unggoy, while small, teemed about the combat zone like insects, and fortunately were just as easily crushed.

A bright blue beam flashed across the battlefield, clipping the image of the Chief in the shoulder and spinning him like a top to the ground, the telltale yellow flash signaling his shields had blown.

"A Jackal sniper with a Beam rifle," Cortana explained for Roslin and Adama, then turned to John and quirked a holographic eyebrow. "You let him draw a bead on you. Sloppy."

"I was in a hurry," the SPARTAN replied, smirking.

"Could you show us the Jackal please?" Roslin asked.

Cortana froze the recording, switching the view to the spindly creature and explaining the Kig-yar, or Jackal, as she and John knew them.

They'd already been in the Chief's quarters for over an hour. Cortana had begun the briefing describing UNSC space and the unrest between the Outer and Inner Colonies that had plagued it before first contact with the Covenant. The AI had proceeded to detail the battle of Harvest, humanity's first defeat, then John's first mission against the aliens, and the inexorable crawl of the enemy closer and closer to Earth, to home. She listed casualty figures the Colonial leaders couldn't believe, described battles in space Adama could scarely fathom, showed the barren ash of a recently glassed world, described the emergency Cole protocol instituted by the legendary admiral of the same name.

And after all that history, leading up to the last year of the war, Cortana had put faces to names of the enemy, the murderous collection of aliens who sought Humanity's extinction for 27 years, driven by religious conviction from the words of corrupt leaders. It was a motivation Roslin and Adama could understand only too well. Dossiers of each species had been followed by the battle recording the 3 humans were now watching.

Adama watched with the trained eye of a soldier but was nonetheless impressed by the Master Chief's skill. Again and again waves of Covenant soldiers would surround the SPARTAN, again and again he fought his way through them, with bullets, with plasma blasts, with grenades, even with his fists. 5 to 1, 10 to 1, 20 to 1, it didn't matter, the Chief slew them all, sometimes with the help of his erstwhile Sangheili partner, the Arbiter.

Roslin watched while struggling to keep her mouth closed and her eyes open at the sheer carnage arrayed around her. Having seen the Chief survive an explosive blast she wasn't surprised to see him rise from the ground and take cover, ducking around the corner of a building.

He remembered the incident well. He and the Arbiter had intentionally triggered a Covenant trap, trying to rescue a squad of Marines taken captive by the enemy. Among the prisoners was Sergeant Johnson, who had lead the Marine team trying to extract the Chief from the jungle they were fighting in. Cortana had started the recording the moment he'd woken up from a 2 kilometer fall into the Congo, the same fall he'd mentioned to Thrace back on Kobol.

The image of the SPARTAN dove from cover, drawing a blast from the Jackal's beam rifle which missed by scant inches. The Chief came to a crouch, aimed down the sight of his Covenant Carbine, and vaporized the creature's head. Squeaking cries of "the demon!" drew his attention to a half squad of Grunts, whom he quickly felled with 5 rapid shots. A Brute behind the Unggoys roared a challenge, opening fire with a spiker. The SPARTAN coolly remained crouched, firing shot after shot into the beast as a few spikes caused his shields to flare. The ape-like monster finally crumpled as the last shot in the chamber was fired.

The three watched the remainder of the firefight finish, as the Chief and the Arbiter freed Johnson and his men, then fought off a wave of Covenant reinforcements deployed from several dropships. The remainder of the group finally boarded a rescuing Pelican dropship, which took them to John's next stop, the base in East Africa the Colonials had seen previously. The recording ended as Cortana dimmed the lights, changing the image to a structure the Chief had seen several times, and whose existence he cursed.

It was a Halo ring.

"Now we come to ancient history, the motivation behind the Covenant's holy war," Cortana started. "What I'm about to tell you is based on archeological evidence we've uncovered, data we've taken from ancient computers, and information from AI constructs far more advanced than myself or the Cylons. It's also information that will severely question your long held religious beliefs." The last was said with a pointed look at Roslin.

The President pursed for lips but said nothing. After a moment, she gestured for the AI to continue.

"Over a hundred thousand years ago, an ancient and extremely advanced civilization ruled over our galaxy. We don't know what they called themselves, but we have named them Forerunner, and we think…they were Humanity's ancestors."

Both Colonials started, mouths dropping open in shock as Cortana went on.

"We also know that the Forerunner were doomed. Sometime in the past, a parasite, an extra-galactic plague of epic proportions, swept across the galaxy, conquering one planet, then the next, then the next, converting more and more life forms into its every growing army. The parasite was a sentient organism called the Flood, and slowly, inexorably, it was winning its war against the Forerunner. I apologize in advance, but the next images are quite disturbing."

The hologram shifted, showing a throng of Flood combat forms frozen in motion, all heading straight for the Chief and the Arbiter in the wreckage of High Charity. Adama and Roslin stepped backward in disgust, horrified at the grotesque mockeries they saw before them.

"The Flood acts by attaching an Infection form, its smallest unit, to a host, preferably sentient, but any creature of sufficient biomass will do," Cortana continued, projecting the small, tentacled Flood creature in front of the trio. "The parasite attaches itself to the organism, and alive or dead rapidly converts the host into the Combat forms you see attacking the Chief here. While severely reduced mentally, Flood Combat forms retain the ability to fire weapons, although inaccurately. However, they sprout clawed appendages, gain enhanced strength, and attain the ability to leap tremendous distances. The parasite's name also aptly describes the speed with which it overruns an area. All variations of the Flood are controlled by a hive mind entity called a Gravemind."

The scene shifted again, to the ruins of the city of Voi, just after a Flood infested ship had crashed. Cortana played a recording of a scene that the Chief still saw in his nightmares. Dozens of Flood Infection and Combat forms attacked a small squad of UNSC Marines. Those humans that didn't fall to Flood claws were mutated by the Infection parasites, in seconds becoming twisted parodies of themselves, screaming in agony as the plague ravaged their bodies. The felled Marines were also turned, and in less than a minute, all 6 Marines were now converted.

Adama retched at the sight, Roslin looked away in horror. Cortana paused, letting the Colonials regain their composure. "I'm sorry about that. UNSC personnel have similar reactions, including the Chief."

Adama took a deep breath, blinking rapidly before standing again. Finally, after several minutes, he gestured for the AI to continue.

"For 300 years the Forerunner fought a losing war against the Flood, slowly but surely being pushed back to the center of the galaxy. All countermeasures failed, all strategies proved useless. Finally, they came up with a last ditch solution, a weapon that could end the Flood threat, but at a terrible cost: the Halo Rings."

Again the frozen image shifted, returning to the Halo ring Cortana had first shown them. "7 rings were constructed, consisting of environments ranging from tropical to snow capped mountains, with the appropriate wild life. The rings maintain a gravity field by centripetal force, and are capable of supporting most life forms. However, the biosphere covering the ring exterior is a mask, a disguise for the control room and reactors lying below."

Again the scene shifted, changing to a Halo control room the Chief was all too familiar with.

"All Forerunner technology, so far as we can tell, can only be activated by a Forerunner construct or by human hands. But when an activation Index is placed in the control console of a ring, seen here, the firing sequence is triggered, and the ring generates a radiological pulse that destroys all life of sufficient biomass in the surrounding sector. What's more, the firing of one ring causes the remainder to do the same, extinguishing _all_ life within 3 radii of the galactic center."

Having heard mention of this on Kobol, the Colonials weren't as horrified as the Chief initially expected, but learning the destructive power of the rings was still quite a shock. Again both Roslin and Adama's mouths fell open, again there was a pause. Finally Adama asked "Why…would the Forerunner build such devices? They'd be killed by the blast along with the Flood!"

"Actually, the Halo pulse doesn't kill Flood Infection forms, somehow these remain immune," Cortana responded. "It's a last resort weapon, designed to starve the Flood…"

"…of any life they could convert," Adama finished, then looked downward. "The Forerunner would wipe the slate clean, allowing the galaxy to start over."

"Precisely. But they held off, refusing to fire it until the last possible moment. The final strategy was two-fold: first, the Forerunner designed an AI, Mendicant Bias, whose sole function was to study the Flood, ultimately determining a way to destroy the parasite in combat. Second, a Forerunner known as the Librarian began indexing every sentient species in the galaxy untouched by the plague, rescuing sustainable groups of each race from their home planets and sending them all to a refuge built outside the range of the Halo pulse, the Ark."

"Covering their bets," Roslin commented.

"Yeah, but like most strategies, it didn't go as planned," John added.

"The Forerunner were betrayed," Cortana continued, changing the image once more to a picture of Earth from orbit. "Mendicant Bias, in the course of its studies, ultimately made contact with the Flood Gravemind. Somehow the parasite convinced the AI to turn on its creators. Bias informed the Gravemind of the Forerunner's strategy, and helped the Flood send a massive fleet to the location of a portal to the Ark. The portal was built on the homeworld of the last species the Forerunner would index…Earth."

"We were…saved by these Forerunner?" Adama asked.

"Along with the ancestors of the Covenant?" Roslin also queried.

"Yes. They sent us through a massive Slipspace portal to safety. But the betrayal of Mendicant Bias meant that most of the Forerunner were unable to retreat to the Ark. One by one the Forerunner fleets were annihilated by the combined forces of the rampant AI and the Gravemind, forcing the Forerunner to fire the Halo array, but if the Flood reached the portal, they would slip away and not only infect the surviving species on the Ark but also prevent the rings from firing. One Forerunner, Didact, constructed another AI, Offensive Bias, and instructed it to use the remaining naval forces to hold the line above Earth. Offensive Bias was successful, ultimately managing to destroy Mendicant Bias after the Halo pulse wiped out organic life on both fleets.

We don't know what happened afterward. Somehow, some of the Forerunner survived, returning the species they saved to their homeworlds. That included humanity, and we have extensive fossil and geological evidence to support Earth as mankind's birthplace, not the worlds you called the Colonies or Kobol. How you came to inhibit the place you call home is something I can only speculate on. But I can tell you this: the technology you encountered in the Tomb of Athena, this projector I'm using, both are Forerunner technology, albeit extensively modified."

Silence greeted the last remark. Adama looked downward again in thought, while Roslin's eyes betrayed a spark of anger. Cortana had stated as fact what amounted to theological heresy from the Colonial perspective. And yet, Roslin held her tongue.

_Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows this is true_, the Chief thought,_ but she can't accept it just yet. Everything she did, finding the Arrow, landing on Kobol, all of it was based on religious beliefs that Cortana just labeled bullshit_.

"Are you saying our gods are Forerunner?" Adama asked.

Cortana shook her head. "It's a good possibility, or they could have been someone, some _thing_ else. The Forerunner may have evolved to a higher life form, but that's idle speculation on my part. We do know that they were preparing to embark on something they called a 'Great Journey,' but if or when they did this is unknown. A lot can happen in a thousand centuries. Regardless, I think it _is _safe to surmise that someone took your ancestors from Earth and brought them to Kobol, but why, I can't say."

The Commander nodded his head at the remarks. There was another long pause as both Colonials digested the theory.

Finally, Roslin spoke up. "What does this ancient history have to do with the Covenant?"

"It's the reason for their war," John quickly stated.

"The Chief's statement is simply put, but accurate," the AI added, looking sidelong at her friend. "The San' Shyuum, the Prophets of the Covenant, worshipped the Forerunner as gods, having found their ancient ruins on the Prophet homeworld. Beginning with the Elites, the Prophets recruited all the races you've seen to join them in their own 'Great Journey.' The Prophet of Truth, who you saw on Kobol, was the San'Shyuum leader, and he was the one who declared Humanity's existence an affront to the gods. We were to be exterminated as a result.

I told John his…'reasoning,' if you could call it that, while we were marooned in space. For a time I was implanted among the systems of the Covenant's main space station, High Charity. Along with the Prophets of Mercy and Regret, Truth had learned that humans were the descendants of the Forerunner and therefore, according to Covenant religious belief, its leaders. If the other races learned the truth of our existence they'd begin to follow _us_, not the Prophets. So the San'Shyuum triumvirate ordered us eliminated to preserve their position. The other Prophets went along with it."

The Colonials were silent, but their eyes betrayed rage. The Cylons' motivation, while evil in itself, resulted from being oppressed as slaves before the 1st Cylon war freed them. Adama's trademark growl betrayed the anger he felt. "Billions dead, hundreds of worlds, because of a political power play?"

"If only," Cortana answered. "The Great Journey, in fact, was a plan by the Prophets to activate and fire the Halo rings once they had travelled to the Ark. They believed doing so would make them gods. But the Prophets correctly deduced that once we knew of the rings' function, we'd never agree to their firing. Moreover, we'd inform the remainder of the Covenant of the rings' true purpose. Such knowledge would break apart the alliance. The Covenant would cease to be. The Prophets would lose everything because of us."

Again there was a pause. "Were they mad?" Roslin asked. "How could wiping out the entire galaxy possibly make them gods? They'd kill themselves in the blast if they weren't within the Ark!"

"There's a very small, blurred line between obsession and insanity," John commented.

"Many of Truth's statements before he died suggest a deep psychosis," Cortana replied. "Most likely he was insane, but I do have a working theory. Imagine a galaxy wiped clean of all sentient life, and you are the only ones left capable of space flight. The Milky Way is literally your sandbox to play in, to do with as you see fit. Destroy a world here, guide an evolving species there, you literally can do anything you want. No, the San'Shyuum wouldn't have become gods by firing the Halo rings, but they would have achieved the next best thing: attaining godly power."

"You mentioned the Covenant penetrated all the way to Earth back on Kobol…" Adama said.

"Yeah, in the last campaign of the war," the SPARTAN replied.

"It was a near thing," Cortana continued as the scene shifted again, showing an image of Truth's ships as they entered the portal to the Ark. "As the Prophets suspected, knowledge of the rings' destructive power _did_ in fact split the Covenant when the Elites learned the truth on Delta Halo, the second of the rings the UNSC located. To forestall the conflict they knew was coming, the Prophets orchestrated the murder of most of the Elite leadership after replacing the Sangheili with the Brutes as the primary warriors of the Covenant. But the massacre of the Elites didn't go as planned. Led by the Arbiter, whom you've seen fight beside the Chief, the Elites rebelled, engaging the Covenant Loyalist Fleet in space over the ringworld."

John found himself slipping back into his memories as he saw the images before him. He still saw these things in his sleep. _Others would call these images nightmares. For me, they're just memories, things I've done. Places I've been._

"As the conflict raged about the Halo ring, a Flood Gravemind, contained on the structure for study, captured a human ship, the _In Amber Clad_, and crashed it into the remains of _High Charity_. The parasite quickly converted the capital and most of the Prophets, along with several nearby ships. Truth abandoned some of his followers on the ring, leading a large fleet straight to Earth as the Sangheili destroyed the remainder of the Covenant Loyalists orbiting Delta Halo. This was the second invasion the UNSC tried to fight off. We failed."

"_Isolate that signal! __Master Chief__? You mind telling me what you're doing on that ship?"_

"_Sir, finishing this fight!"_

"The Covenant forces quickly overwhelmed our defenses, establishing a planetary defensive cordon around one of our cities, Voi, which partially covered the Ark portal. Truth and his soldiers quickly began digging, excavating the large structure you see here. Even with the Chief and the Arbiter's help, we were unable to prevent the Covenant from entering the portal with their remaining fleet, though by now it had been severely reduced in strength. After fighting off a small Flood infection, which you saw a part of, the remaining UNSC forces, along with a fleet of Sangheili ships, pursued Truth through the portal to the Ark."

"_Earth is all we have left. Do you trust Cortana that much?"_

"_Sir, YES, sir!"_

"This is the last battle you mentioned?" Adama asked, looking at John.

"Yeah. I…lost some friends there."

A schematic of the Ark appeared between Cortana and the other humans, and the images before them began to change rapidly as the AI continued describing events they depicted. "The Ark itself turned out to be a massive construct, its surface area as large as any gas giant, and containing every environment found on Earth. Most of Truth's ships remained in orbit, and outnumbered our combined fleet 3 to 1. While the Elites engaged the craft in space, several human dropships landed ground troops, with the Chief and Arbiter among them, and secured a landing zone for reinforcements. Using a vehicle convoy deployed on the surface, the Chief led the way to the Cartographer, a computer on the Ark which could tell us where Truth was going to activate the ring arrays.

The Prophet raised a large shield around the Ark's control room, which had to be deactivated before we could strike at Truth. Having won the battle in the space, the Elites and UNSC personnel launched a joint operation, sending 3 strike teams to knock out the shield generators and allow a direct assault upon the remaining Covenant. In this, we were successful, but unfortunately Sergeant Johnson fell into enemy hands. Meanwhile, the Gravemind followed us through the Portal and crashed _High Charity_ into the Ark."

"Making the rings useless." Adama added.

"That didn't stop Truth," John replied.

"So we can imagine," said Roslin.

"The Chief and the Arbiter lead a strike team to the Ark's central control chamber, demolishing the last of Truth's ground forces in their way, but the Prophet still had plenty of time to activate the rings using Sgt. Johnson. Miranda Keyes sacrificed herself to buy the two companions precious minutes to reach Truth by crashing a dropship into the control room. Even then, it wouldn't have been enough. The Flood, having grown to massive proportions, allied itself with John and the Arbiter, helping them force their way through the last of Truth's soldiers to the Prophet himself. There, the Arbiter killed the San'Shyuum and the Chief deactivated the ring arrays. At this point, the Gravemind turned on the two and they were forced to fight their way out."

_The creature's tentacles surrounded them, its maniacal laughter echoing in the chamber. "We trade one villain for another," the Arbiter growled._

"So the Prophets are dead?" Adama asked.

"Most likely. With the Loyalist Fleet destroyed over Delta Halo, the remaining forces would be scattered. This is speculation on my part, we don't know the exact situation," Cortana replied.

"But if the Gravemind controlled the Ark, how could you beat it?"

"Luck," John answered.

Cortana's image smiled. "Actually, it was keeping a promise. As I previously said, I was marooned on High Charity, while the…Flood was in control. The Chief had been forced to leave me behind and return to Earth from Delta Halo a few months prior. John, with the Arbiter in tow, assaulted the ship to rescue me, found me, and evacuated from a damaged dropship after setting High Charity's reactor to overload."

"_Figured I'd shoot my way out. Mix things up a little."_

"I possessed an activation Index to a Halo ring, the first ring we encountered and destroyed. The Ark was not only a haven, it was also a construction facility. Another ring, a replacement for the destroyed construct, was being built. Although the nuclear explosion of the Covenant Space Station bought us some time, Gravemind was still able to reform and attack the last ring. The Chief and the Arbiter fought through a massive amount of Flood to reach ring's control room. There, they attempted to insert me into the console where I could activate the ring, destroying the Ark, the Gravemind, and the new construct in the process. A Forerunner Monitor, 343 Guilty Spark, intervened to try and stop us, killing Sgt. Johnson in the process before it was destroyed."

"_Protocol dictates action! I see now that helping you was wrong! You are a child of my makers, inheritor of all they left behind. You are Forerunner, but this ring is _mine!'**"**

_He saw the Monitor fire, his mouth opened in rage as he leapt forward, but was shot before he could even howl in anger. He saw Johnson's dying body again in his mind's eye. He cradled the Marine as the man groaned. He saw the man struggle to hand Cortana's storage disk to him. You old bastard, you would have to die when we've almost won it. Had he been something else then a SPARTAN, he would have wept_.

"_Send me out…with a bang…"_

"The Chief destroyed the Monitor, and inserted me into the terminal, activating the ring. As the firing sequence initiated, the Chief, the Arbiter, and I quickly boarded a nearby vehicle and raced along the incomplete structure to Johnson's destroyer, the _Forward Unto Dawn_. We barely made it before the ring fired, entering slipspace just as the Halo pulse struck the ship. It broke the destroyer in two, and John and I were in the rear portion. The Arbiter was in the forward half. We concluded that the hulk was irreparable, so John entered cryogenic slumber while I kept watch over him, transmitting a signal through space for rescue."

"_Wake me when you need me…"_

"4 years later, the hulk drifted into orbit around Caprica. The Chief and I rigged up an ejection pod and separated from the derelict, crash landing in a forest south of Delphi. We met Lieutenants Thrace and Agathon over a day later. You know the rest."

"You encountered them in the Delphi Museum of the Colonies?" Roslin asked. Cortana nodded. "Who pointed guns at whom?" The President said with a smile.

"Why don't I just show you?" the AI replied, beginning another recording.

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

The crew hurriedly got out of his way as he walked the corridor, he armored feet _tromping_ on the metal deck. Subconsciously he noted the wide-eyed looks as he, the armored green behemoth, stalked past. He didn't see them, didn't see anyone really. He was heading for the starboard hangar deck, but he saw images of combat, of his friends, of men he'd fought beside, of men who had fallen.

_It's not everyday you see your life reviewed as a presentation. And that's my life. Combat. Death. Destruction. That's what I do._

Had his face been visible beneath the visor the crew would have seen a man deep in thought. Pensive. He walked along, looking downward toward the deck.

"Troubled thoughts?" Cortana chimed in his ear.

"Not really," John whispered in reply. "Just…thinking. About why I'm here." The AI didn't answer, and John strode on for a few minutes before he spoke again. "I'm a soldier. I do my job. I'm good at my job, the best. I don't expect to be rewarded. Hell, I don't even like being _praised_ for it all that much. But that's what I am. I exist to fight and win. That's it. Without a war, I'm… without a purpose. And now the war with the Covenant's over. If we get back…"

"_When_ we get back." Cortana corrected.

"When? Since when are you the optimist?"

"Color me hopeful."

John half-smiled beneath his helmet. "_When_ we get back…what will I do? I'm a soldier without a war to fight. They might find a use for me, but being an instructor is a waste of my skills. And I'll be remembered as a part of Humanity's darkest hour. Even if it's as a savior."

Cortana didn't reply at first. "The way I see it, one of three things can happen. First, the UNSC put's you back in the line as a combat soldier, used in the most extreme situations."

"Which is different from the war, how?"

"It's not. You'll just have to find a way to deal with the boredom of having to wait months, perhaps years between assignments. Second, yes, they make you an instructor, but you'd probably take over Chief Mendez's role. I can't think of a better replacement, given your history."

"And the third?"

"You find someone to give your live another meaning."

The Chief snorted. "Get married like Maria? I'm not exactly the loving type."

"The Universe always has a way of surprising us. After the Covenant destroyed Reach, would you have believed that we'd eventually win the war?" The SPARTAN didn't answer. "I'll take that as a yes," Cortana finished as the Chief reached the door to the hangar deck. He could feel her smirking again.

The hatch opened with a squeal as the Chief stepped inside. "I hope this isn't your way of asking me out," he quipped. There was a pause before he heard Cortana's laughter.

Claudius was within, getting ready for another run through the Funhouse. The man was a machine, always looking for some way to improve his shooting, his stamina, his speed. _Trains almost as much as a SPARTAN_, the Chief thought, as he watched the Marine finish another run and mutter a curse at the end. _He's a little slow today_.

Someone who had read Claudius' dossier would have been surprised at the display. The Chief himself was also glad to see the man's professionalism, given his past history of brawling. He had guessed the turnaround came because of the attacks, but this was something more.

The private set up the Funhouse by himself, quickly closing doors and realigning targets in the span of a few minutes. He didn't even notice the SPARTAN standing by the hatchway, he was so focused on the obstacle course. This was beyond being a soldier, it was an obsession. Claudius was determined to be the best soldier.

_He's burning himself out_. The Marine finished another run, better by a half second, but still 2 full seconds short of the record. As Claudius turned around to reset the Funhouse again, the Chief audibly cleared his throat. Startled, the private turned towards the railing overlooking the hangar deck, his mouth opening slightly in shock.

"The…uh…the alien. I… didn't know you were there." The Marine stammered, still wide-eyed at the appearance of the green behemoth.

"You seem quite focused, Marine," the SPARTAN spoke, adopting the professorial air he'd used while speaking to Biers. "I take it this is Sergeant Ischoron's infamous Funhouse?"

"Ye…yeah. How'd you here about it, uh…ali-"

"Master Chief."

"Huh?"

"It's the best translation of my rank. Address me as Master Chief."

"Uh, yes, uh, Master Chief. Translation?"

"I have a device in my helmet that translates my language into something you can understand."

"That's kind of… kind of funny, sir. You sound kinda like…Sergeant Ischoron."

_Think fast._

"Well, uh, Marine, that's because Sergeant Ischoron…"

…_is _you,_ idiot, should have seen this coming…_

"…is the first human I encountered on Caprica. I copied his voice for my translator."

"Oh. So… what does your real voice sound like?"

_Damn, he's backing me into a hole, and he's just trying to make conversation!_

"Cortana…help!" the Chief whispered.

"Already on it," the AI chirped. He could hear a barely repressed chuckle. "Place your hand the left side of your headgear, opposite the zoom feature."

John complied, and was slightly startled to hear a loud "_WORT WORT WORT!"_ blare from his helmet speaker.

"An Elite battle howl?!" John whispered, aggravated.

"Punishment for not using your head," Cortana replied, this time her chuckling loud and clear.

"What…wh…what was that?!" Claudius was quavering, having taken 2 steps back.

"Apologies. It was a battle cry. 'Death to the enemy!'" He raised his fist for emphasis.

"You liar," Cortana chided, "you don't know _what _that means." He felt her grinning.

"Oh. I…see. So…I guess you came here to try the Funhouse?" Claudius was recovering, slowly, but recovering.

"Yes. I'm somewhat out of practice and I'd like to work on my combat skills. If you would be kind enough to reset the mechanisms, Marine?"

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

"Get outta here. No way he did that!" Fischer sat back with a disbelieving grin on his face.

"Corp, when have you ever known me to bullshit?" Claudius replied.

John's section was eating breakfast in the enlisted mess.

"Oh, I don't know, how about when you said you were going to beat my time on the Funhouse?" Henick grinned.

"Yeah, well, not like I care. He cleared it in 35 _seconds_. Went _through_ a godsdamn door. Fastest thing I've ever seen. Fired 3 pistol shots in a second, moves like a green thunderbolt." Michael was shaking his head.

"Hey Sarge, you met this guy on Caprica, helped him on Kobol. Is he really this good?" McQuinlan asked. All eyes turned to John.

He paused for effect, tilting his head to the side and looking up as if in thought. "Yeah. Personally saw him wipeout 5 toasters by himself. _After_ falling over 300 meters through the air from a landing craft." He allowed a small smile to show.

The rest of his section sat back wide-eyed. "Gods!" Jan exclaimed.

"He _does _say he's a super soldier," John said after a moment.

"Yeah, says his rank is Master Chief." Claudius added.

"He got a name?" Henick asked.

"Didn't tell me," Michael replied.

"Or me," John lied.

"Maybe it's something embarrasing." McQuinlan added.

Omar grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Like what, Slab Bulkhead?"

Henick laughed. "Naw. Bridge Largemeat!"

"Or Butch Deadlift!" Jan added, joining the game.

"Splint Chesthair!" "Bulk Vanderhuge!" "Thick McRunfast!" "Fist Rockbone!" "Smash Lampjaw!" "Punch Rockgroin!"

John shook his head and quirked and eyebrow upward. "Please don't say these to his face."

"Rip Steakface!" "Gristle McThornbody!" "Slate Slabrock!" "Blast Thickneck!"

Suddenly the alarm klaxons began to blare.

"_Action stations, action stations, this is not a drill!"_ Gaeta's voice came over the intercom. "_I repeat, action stations, action stations, Condition One_…"

"Let's move, people!" John commanded, quickly rising from the table and jogging toward the exit hatch, his section close behind.

They made their way to the armory storing their gear, John quickly opening the locked door with his assigned key card. He stepped inside and strode to his locker, quickly opening it. He strapped on his combat vest, shin guards, elbow pads, helmet, all the standard issue tactical gear lying within, then ran to the weapons storage by the door to the room. He opened the weapons locker and stood by, as his section quickly finished dressing and ran to the locker.

One by one he handed out an assault rifle and ammo belt to each Marine as they ran up and passed him. Each Marine then formed in line, buckled the ammuntion belt to their waist, and stood at attention. Finally he picked up a weapon and ammo for himself and exited the armory, closing the hatch behind him. "Sound off!" he yelled. "Fischer ready!" The corporal hollered. The other Marines did the same.

"Follow me," John commanded, and they set off at a jog for their assigned stations in a Condition One alert, CIC. Perhaps 3 minutes had passed since the initial alarm, a decent time, considering they weren't wearing any gear in the mess hall.

"Whaddaya think this alert's for? Cylon raiders?" Henick asked as they ran along.

"Doesn't matter, Henick. We won't know until the shooting stops," Fischer answered.

_He's right. This is the part of the job I'm learning to hate. I'm stuck outside the bridge without a clue as to what's going on in space, unless Adama decides to put the thing on loudspeakers again. That's not exactly S.O.P._

The team assumed its posts around the CIC entrances in two groups, Henick, Fischer, and McQuinlan in one, John and Claudius in another. The Chief and the Marines stood resolutely at attention, waiting for orders, waiting for news.

Waiting.

Minutes passed. They felt like hours. For the Chief, these moments of waiting crawled by. Had he been on a ship in a battle against the Covenant he'd be getting a live feed of the engagement from radio chatter and a visual piped through his helmet systems as he readied for a boarding action, a landing on a planet, whatever was called for. He'd be in the thick of the fighting with his fellow SPARTANS, that much was certain.

But doing nothing, standing at attention, was intolerable. He was one of the greatest soldiers of Humanity, and all he could do was standby on a ship's deck.

_Sometimes life just sucks_.

Finally the door to CIC opened with a small squeal, and the President and Commander Adama emerged.

"Sergeant Ischoron, would you escort the President back to my quarters? I'll be joining you shortly." The last was said to Roslin.

"Yes sir. Follow me ma'am," John motioned to Laura and led her back to Adama's room. He hoped Claudius didn't notice that Adama had chosen to use the CIC exit opposite the shortest route to the Old Man's quarters. Both Colonials clearly wanted to talk to him, as Roslin motioned for the Chief to follow inside the room when they arrived at their destination. He quickly closed the door behind him.

"What's going on?" he asked. The President seemed to be in a good mood.

"We've encountered another ship. A battlestar. It's the _Pegasus_," the woman replied, smiling fully.

"I thought you said your entire fleet was destroyed in the attack on the Colonies?"

"Apparently we were mistaken."

John paused for a moment in thought, then returned a small smile. "Well, that is pretty good news."

"Yes." After a moment, Roslin let a small, joyful laugh fill the room.

Adama arrived a full 7 minutes later. After he closed the door behind him a rare grin spread across his face. "You've told him?" the man said. The President nodded.

"What kind of ship is the _Pegasus_?" the Chief asked.

"It's another battlestar, Mercury class. Top of the line and state of the art. Ship's twice as big as _Galactica_, has a Viper Factory, 6 Viper squadrons, 2 Raptor squadrons. She's also got enough armament to take on a couple of basestars and win."

"Who's in command?"

"Rear Admiral Helena Cain. Very good reputation, very capable. _Pegasus_ was one of the premier postings before the attack. She should have a fine crew."

"Maybe, Bill, but I think _Galactica's_ would give them a run for their money," Roslin supplied.

The Chief looked downward in thought for a moment, then looked up at the two leaders. "What do you need from me?"

"Admiral Cain will be docking in the Port Hangar Bay in 45 minutes. I want you in your armor assembled with the crew. We're going to have to give her the same briefing you gave us, so she might as well know you're aboard my ship."

"Yes, Commander, if we learn that we can trust her."

Silence greeted the remark, putting a damper on the Colonials' mood. He was sorry he said it, but until he met her face to face, there was no telling what kind of woman Admiral Helena Cain would turn out to be.

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

"Get into ranks people! Look sharp!" Tigh hollered.

"Come on, the landing party's here! Dress and cover!" Lee added, raising his voice as well. The crew hastily assembled in file around the newly arrived Raptor.

The Chief stood to the right of Vice President Baltar, Roslin, and Adama. He was several meters down the line, behind _Galactica's_ command staff. He was surprised to see that the crew wasn't giving him a wide berth. Perhaps they were just happy to see that the burden of protecting the fleet no longer lay solely on them, placating the fear they felt around him temporarily.

Starbuck sidled into line next to Apollo, leading the pilots contigent. The two pilots formed the end of the line after the command staff, the Chief, inappropriately to sticklers of protocol, standing with the rest of the fliers. He found it a little incongruous to stand with the pilots, given his status as a ground pounder.

"Nice of you to show up," Apollo said in a low voice.

"Couldn't get here too early," Thrace replied with a small smile before standing at attention.

The hatch of the Raptor opened as Tigh hollered "Group! At-ten-huh!" The crew on the deck snapped to attention, John copying them.

A two-man escort of Marines emerged first, quickly moving to stand at attention on either side of the Raptor's exit ramp. They were followed by a pair of pilots, the Chief guessing the men were leaders of the _Pegasus_ air group. A portly officer followed, then finally a woman of middle stature with long auburn hair. She could only be one person.

_Helena Cain_.

John studied her, as he studied every person he initially met. The woman looked over the assembled crew with eyes of hardened steel, seemingly assessing them before she even spoke to the Commander. Her eyes widened slightly when she caught sight of the Chief, the only break in her composure.

John was a firm believer in the saying that "the eyes are the windows of the soul." What he saw in that brief glance, in the woman's eyes as she looked around, troubled him. There was no joy, no elation in the look, no wonder at finding nearly 50,000 survivors after being alone for 4 months. He recognized the gleam in her eyes as she scanned the crew. There were times when he had that look in his own eyes, as did the other SPARTANs, as did some officers who had been in the Covenant war.

There wasn't a term for it, and it wasn't Battle Fatigue. Cain had the look of a commander who saw the people under her charge as assets, not human beings. John had served under men and women who looked and carried themselves as the Admiral now did. They were usually good officers, but they also possesed a singular drive to accomplish their objectives no matter what the cost, no matter how many died. And the butcher's bill with such people was invariably high.

Such soldiers had their purpose. Indeed, some would include him in this group as a SPARTAN, and there had been times when he'd shared their mentality.

_You need officers like this to win wars._ _The problem is, the Colonials have already lost_. _This could be a lot of trouble_.

He hoped his first impression was wrong. Adama saluted Cain when the woman approached, a gesture which was returned per protocol.

"Admiral Cain," the Commander intoned, "welcome aboard the _Galactica_."

The woman smiled slightly. "Commander Adama," she said, gripping the man's hand and shaking it firmly, "it's and honor."

"Allow me to present to you, the President of the Colonies, Laura Roslin."

Cain turned to the woman, her eyes quirking upward in surprise. John couldn't quite shake an uneasy feeling when he the Admiral spoke "Madame President, a pleasure," and shook Roslin's hand. It was something in her eyes again.

"On behalf of the officers and crew of the _Pegasus_," Cain said, addressing the assembled group, "it's a pleasure to see all of you."

_Every move, every posture, is to establish a position of dominance._

"Welcome back to the Colonial Fleet."

The men and women around him cheered. Cain smiled as she looked at Adama. Suddenly the crew was breaking ranks, hugging the newly arrived _Pegasus_ members and introducing themselves. The Chief saw the President and the Admiral embrace in a warm hug.

_Perhaps I'm wrong. She could just be a steel-nerved commander and a stickler for regulations_.

The Commander was introducing Cain to his immediate staff, including Colonel Tigh and Vice President Baltar. Apollo and Starbuck had already moved out of line, introducing themselves to the two _Pegasus _pilots. Commander Adama temporarily lost them in the crowd, then saw the Chief, still standing at attention. He beckoned to the SPARTAN.

"This the Master Chief. He's staying aboard the ship as a guest."

"A guest?" the Admiral replied, without a trace of humor.

"I crashed landed on Caprica from a derelict spacecraft, and helped some of _Galactica's_ crew escape the planet," John answered. "Master Chief John-117, United Nations Space Command." The SPARTAN held out his hand.

The Admiral didn't take it.

"What exactly are you?" she asked. Roslin's smile froze on her face, and Adama's lips were pursed. Cain was being anything but friendly.

"He's a super-soldier, an alien. He's earned my pilots' trust several times over, mine as well," Adama answered for the Chief.

The Admiral didn't like the answer. Adama introduced some more of his crew, and the Chief was left standing there, alone with his thoughts. _She wouldn't have liked any answer. I'm an alien, not under her command, aboard one of her ships_. _She can't control me. And she's already behaving like I'm a threat_.

_Damn I hate it when I'm right. This is going to be…difficult, for all of us. And I hope we survive it. Scratch that._

_I hope we survive Cain_.


	19. Part XIX: Aim Down The Sight

**Gods and Demons ****Part XIX Aim Down the Sight**

**I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I've been hard at work on my Thesis project (I'm a graduate student), and upon viewing the 4****th**** season of BSG, I realized I had to completely rewrite the ending I had in mind. Anyway, without further ado, here's Part 19. Things get very dark for the Chief, and he's going to an even worse place in the next chapter. I hope you enjoy.**

"Hell this is gonna be a fracked up, godsdamn mess," Wilkes growled.

"I hear that Gunny," John added. Ditko grunted in agreement from across the table.

The three of them were staring at a Marine personnel list from Pegasus.

_This is gonna be a zoo_.

Admiral Cain was integrating the crews. It made sense to shuffle around some of the personnel, and had the Colonial Fleet still been at war it would have been perfectly acceptable, especially if the two Battlestars were part of a large fleet. He'd already met privately with Adama and Roslin about it. It was clear the Old Man didn't like having his crew reshuffled, especially since his son and Kara Thrace were being reassigned. But he kept his real opinions to himself.

The main topic of course was whether to reveal John's identity to the Admiral. Adama and Roslin had both been in favor, though the President was hesitant. John had interposed his veto.

"_She's my superior officer!" Adama protested._

"_And if you were part of the chain of command in war I'd agree with you, Commander," the SPARTAN replied._

"_But we ARE at war-"_

"_No, you're not. You lost. Only thing left to do is run, hide, get to UNSC space as fast as possible. Cain doesn't see it that way. She's still trying to make the Cylons bleed."_

"_So am I," Adama's voice had become a deep growl, and his eyes were blazing in fury._

"_You don't understand. Cain can't acknowledge that there's nothing to be gained by standing and fighting. She's not the type. If she has to lose Galactica, or a civilian ship, or a half squadron of fighters, just to blow up 1 Basestar, she'll do it. Exactly the kind of ruthlessness needed to win a war…"_

"_But there's nothing to win," Roslin finished for him._

"_Fine," Adama grated, "have it your way. You're dismissed, _Sergeant_."_

Pissing off Adama was number 5 on John's _Things Never To Do Aboard Galactica_ list. But his bad impression of Cain would not be shaken, and everything he'd heard over the past 24 hours was deepening it. Cain had removed _Galactica's_ 2 best pilots and given Adama her number 2 ace, Narcho, as the Viper squadron leader. But Adama's pilots were subordinates on _Pegasus_ now. In one stroke Cain had removed 2 pillars of _Galactica's_ command structure and inserted her own man.

And now the Marines were next.

Admittedly the complement on Galactica was _very_ shorthanded, with only a quarter of its full strength. They certainly could use the help, but John was suspicious, especially when he saw that the top of the list was headed by another Gunnery Sergeant, Erin Mathias. Staff Sergeant Hadrian was still the ranking Marine on _Galacica_, but as Master-At-Arms she wasn't actually involved in day to day Section operations. Cain had yet to officially place Mathias above Wilkes, but John suspected it was only a matter of time.

It was bad enough having a superior replaced who you liked and were familiar with, then suddenly dealing with another whose loyalties were questionable. What was worse was the number of Marines listed below. Fully 20 men, 2 full squads, were being assigned to _Galactica_. John had been on enough ships to know that these Marines would look to Mathias for orders, not Wilkes. Cain, of course, knew this as well, so while _Galactica's_ complement of soldiers was being doubled, it was also loading a contingent large enough to control her personnel.

"What do we do with these guys Wilky?" Ditko asked. "Should we split 'em up between the 4 Sections?"

_Not a good idea_.

Wilkes grunted and shook his head. "Nah, these are two squads used to working together. We'll turn'em into Sections 2 and 3. Ditko, your boys will be folded into Section 1, Corporal Makasian's will be folded into 4. Think you can handle another 6 men Ischoron?"

"Shouldn't be too hard," John replied. "Any of them sick?"

"Just Wydell. Doc Cottle says he'll be off duty for a least 3 more days. Got some kind of bad flu," Ditko supplied.

"So 5 men for now, then. We changing the duty assignments any?"

"Not unless I get a direct order from Cain," Wilky grunted.

Ditko and John shared a look. Both knew that _Galactica's_ Marines were still guarding the most important parts of the ship. Section 1 guarded the Port Hangar and Armory, Section 4 still guarded the Brig and CIC. The new Marines would be guarding the Starboard Hangar, deserted save for those using the Funhouse, Crew Quarters, Mess, Sickbay, and Engineering.

Neither of the Sergeants were surprised by Wilky's attitude. The initial integration of the crews wasn't going well. _Galactica's_ personnel quickly became aware of a bloodthirsty side to the _Pegasus_ crew, who kept making off-hand comments about the "useless civies." Cain's men, in turn, viewed Adama's as weak-willed, unwilling to do what was necessary to complete a mission. John and Fischer had already broken up one fight between some of the pilots of both ships, and a welcome rumor had been making the rounds that _Galactica's _crew would stay largely intact.

Then word came that Cain was integrating both ships.

So now John had the immediate worry of his cover story falling apart. He couldn't very well maintain his Marine Sergeant identity and his SPARTAN one if he was on separate ships. Further, he'd have to break in another group of Marines. At first glance Section 3, under Corporal Vin Makasian, didn't have any glaring problems with acceptable fitness reports, marksmanship tests, no disciplinary issues. But they'd also never been tested as a unit, except on board the Gideon.

Part the group had been present during the riot on the ship, and it was these Marines that lost their cool under attack from civilians, opening fire on the unarmed people and causing a massacre. Makasian hadn't been present, and the Captain responsible was alternately spending time in the Psych ward or in the Brig. Strangely enough Colonel Tigh had mixed up the Sections as he assigned them to various duties that day. _Probably drunk at the time_, John thought.

The SPARTAN went through a mental checklist of his new Marines. He didn't know them all that well, preferring to keep to his own Section. Given the need to maintain his separate UNSC identity, John had thought things would be easier if a select few knew him outside his MJOLNIR armor. He now had 2 corporals with Fischer and Makasian. Vin appeared to be competent, no problems on his record, and was known around the ship as something of a practical jokester. The rest were just names more or less. He knew Private First Class Gennifer Odalis was a crack shot, and PFC Ben "Wrestler" Wydell was physically the strongest member of _Galactica's_ Marines, but Privates Schoo, Bardick, and Leyland were unknowns, though all 3 had been present on the Gideon. Leyland and Schoo had been PFCs before being busted, as they were the first to open fire during the massacre, the only thing John could remember about them.

The three sergeants continued discussing the duty assignments, training rotations, bunking arrangements, all the minutiae of military life that made wearing the uniform boring. It was another half hour before they heard a knock on the bulkhead door.

A young crewman entered. "Message for Sgt. Ischoron," he said, handing John a small note. John unfolded the piece of paper, expecting some kind of private note from Adama or Roslin. The message was terse: _Come to the Commander's quarters_. John excused himself and left the other 2 Marines to finish the duty assignments.

When he entered Adama's quarters, he found Roslin waiting within. John looked around. The commander wasn't present. "Where's Adama?" the SPARTAN asked.

"He had to return to CIC for a few moments," the woman replied.

"Something up?"

Roslin paused for a moment, considering something. "Yes."

"And?"

Another pause. "The Admiral wants to meet with the Master Chief."

_Ah. She doesn't know what I'll do_. "Here?"

"No. The _Pegasus_."

_Oh shit_. "That…could be a problem." There was no answer. "Shouldn't you have told me this when Adama was present?"

"Yes, but he already knows." Again there was another pause as the President pursed her lips.

"You want to ask me to do something," John stated. Roslin didn't reply. "And it's not something I'm gonna like."

Roslin nodded her head. "In a way. I actually want Cortana to help me."

_What?_ "What do you need her for?"

"You can get her on the ship…"

"To do what?" _I don't like where this is going…_

"I want her to hack into _Pegasus'_ datafiles. I need to know what Admiral Cain's been doing since the attack."

"Whoa, hold on, you want to use Cortana, an AI, to hack another Colonial ship, the most powerful one in the fleet?" _She needs me to get Cortana to interface…_

"I usually don't have to repeat myself. Yes. I need Cain's personal logs."

John paused. Here was a woman with a long held prejudice against cyborgs and artificial intelligence, who had seen her home annihilated by such creations, now asking for help from one. It didn't make any sense at first glance, which meant only one thing. _Roslin's desperate_.

"You're asking me to risk my life, Cortana's life, for information you could just ask the Admiral or Commander Adama to obtain. Why?"

"She's denying the civilian fleet any supplies, limiting contact between the military and civilians. And I've heard things. Rumors."

"Such as?"

"Such as stripping a civilian fleet for parts while executing any survivors who opposed her."

"You haven't asked this of Commander Adama…" Roslin nodded her head. "Does he know you're asking me to do this?" The President shook her head, no. "You think I'm right about her."

"You could be. I need to know. I need to know what she's done. I need evidence to convince Bill," the use of Adama's first name didn't escape John, "to make him understand that this fleet cannot survive with Cain at its head, if these allegations are true."

"You're putting me and Cortana in a situation where if things go bad, we're alone on a ship surrounded by 2,000 hostiles. Hundreds of Marines, crewmen, and pilots, they'll all be gunning for me."

"It's not like you haven't faced that before."

He paused and half smiled at the remark. "Only when I had no choice."

Roslin paused and looked at the floor, then looked John squarely in the eyes. "I take it your answer is no then?"

Suddenly there was a commotion outside the room, interrupting the conversation. Shouting was heard and a dampened sound of running footsteps. John moved to the door and opened it, seeing a crewwoman running towards Adama's quarters.

"What's going on?" he asked. The young woman turned to face him.

_Specialist Cally_, John noted. He'd made a point of knowing Chief Tyrol's deck crew, since the man was one of the few who knew his real identity. Like most UNSC personnel, the Marines and Fleet deckhands largely kept separate company. He didn't know any of the deckhands personally other than Tyrol's group. Given his real nature, this was probably for the best.

The deckhand was breathless, panic evident on her face. "Sarge, it's the Chief and…Helo. Something happened with the frackin' Cylon in her cell. Lt. Thorne's dead. They're saying…"

"Specialist Cally," Roslin appeared behind John, "Please, slow down. Who killed this Lt. Thorne? Chief Tyrol?"

"It was an accident!" Cally pleaded. "Lt. Thorne was _raping_ Sharon in her cell and Galen threw him against the bulkhead to stop him! He wasn't trying to kill him! Now they're taking them off the ship!"

"Who is?"

"The Pegasus Marines! The two with Thorne are dragging Helo and Galen to the Hangar!"

"Why isn't anyone stopping them? That's The Old Man's call." John interrupted.

"Everyone's too scared! They're waving they're rifles about like a couple of maniacs and the new Pegasus transfers are helping them move our guys off the ship! I came here looking for the Commander!"

"He's been summoned to the Bridge, Specialist," Roslin replied. She looked sidelong at John before continuing. "Take us to the Hangar, now. Maybe I or the Sergeant can talk some sense in to them." John didn't miss the reference. Roslin wanted him to try talking the Marines down first.

"Yes Ma'am!" Cally turned around, some relief evident on her face that she had found an authority figure who could help her. She set of at a quick jog down the corridors, Roslin and the SPARTAN following as best they could. It wasn't hard to find the Pegasus group. The commotion as they approached the hangar increased to a swelling roar as _Galactica_ personnel thronged towards the bay.

Chaos on a military ship was an unwelcome sight for John. All he saw was the backs of _Galactica_ crewmembers as they yelled and pushed in a circle, obviously surrounding the _Pegasus_ Marines. He could make out snippets of things the crewman yelled, the gist of it demanding that Helo and Tyrol be released, to wait for the old man. The tone was a mix of pleading, shock, and an undercurrent of anger. Things were about to get out of hand.

"Make way! Make way!" John shouted, shoving some of the crewmembers aside. "This is the President here! Make way! Make a hole!" Roslin stayed at his back, following the path the SPARTAN cleared in front of them. They were getting closer. John could see a bit through the front of the crowd, could see that the _Pegasus _Marines surrounded Helo and Tyrol. As he got closer, he noted that they were pointing their weapons at the crew and yelling.

There were 7 of them. 2 were apparently from Thorne's detail, and 5 more, _all recent Pegasus transfers_, he realized, and they were led by a corporal from Thorne's group whom John couldn't identify. The man was yelling at a nearby deckhand, Seelix, who was pushing herself closer to Tyrol. John saw the corporal raise his rifle in the air…

And heard two shots fire as he reflexively pushed Roslin down. The crewmen surrounding the Marines scattered or hit the deck.

"I _said_ get the FRACK back!" yelled the Corporal. "The next Buckethead who gets in my way gets one in the head!"

"CORPORAL!" John shouted, drawing the man's attention. "You just fired a weapon on the ship! You could have put a hole in the hull!"

"Begging your pardon, _sergeant_," the man said, pointing his weapon at another _Galactica_ crewman. "We're putting these two frackers on a Raptor for _Pegasus_. The Admiral's going to have some fun with them after what they did to Thorne…"

"It was an accident!" Helo bellowed, struggling against a Marine holding him on his knees by the collar. "He was _raping_ Sharon and you bastards were just going to…"

The Raptor pilot was struck a heavy blow by a third Marine's rifle butt before he could finish. Agathon grunted and slumped to the floor, stunned. Sneering, the third soldier looked at his Corporal. "Why don't we just frag these guys now?"

"Frackin' A," another Marine grunted. The Corporal paused, checking the action on his weapon.

_He's actually considering it. My God, what are these people?_

"Stand down, Corporal," John ordered.

The Marine looked at him like he had a third eye. "What?" The lack of proper address wasn't lost on the SPARTAN.

"Corporal you have been given an order by a superior officer. In the off chance that your hearing is substandard, I will repeat that order. You will obey it. Do you understand?"

"Affirmative…_sergeant_." The Corporal stared back at John. The other Marines turned to face him. Judging by the awed looks of the _Galactica_ personnel, no one had tried facing down these men directly.

"Stand down."

The Corporal remained motionless. "Stand _down_ Marine. That is a direct order," John repeated.

After a pause, the Corporal replied, cycling the action on his weapon for effect. "Negative, _sergeant_."

The meaning was clear to everyone in the room. Not only was the Corporal refusing a direct order, but if John approached the prisoners, the man was prepared to shoot him. Or so John thought. To test this, the SPARTAN took a step forward, and the man's rifle came up.

_Now I've done it. Can't go forward, and I can't back off_.

John was about to raise another foot when a male voice shouted "CORPORAL!"

Striding through the crowd came a Viper pilot, one of the transfers from _Pegasus_. From his bearing, John guessed he was Narcho. The SPARTAN knew he was right when the Marine stammered in response.

"Captain Allison, I was just…" The Marine started.

"What the FRACK do you think you're doing? Pointing a weapon at another Marine?"

"Sir he was…"

"Giving you an order to stand down, which you _disobeyed_ and threatened his life! Lower your rifle. Sergeant…Ischoron," Narcho said, noticing the name tag on John's uniform and widening his eyes slightly, "Retrieve the Corporal's weapon."

"Yes sir," John answered, stepping forward and grabbing the rifle from the Marine. "Captain, the prisoners…"

"Are to be loaded on the next Raptor for transfer to _Pegasus_. The orders just came through here," Narcho took out a folded piece of paper from his suit pocket and waved it at John. The SPARTAN pushed the paper away, not looking over it. "Do you wish to press charges against Corporal Malicai here?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Then take him to the Brig. I'm sure the Commander will think of something suitable during summary judgment."

_Summary judgment? No trial? What the hell?_

"Summary judgment?"

"Standard practice on the _Pegasus_, Sergeant. Commanding officer of the ship is judge and jury. Don't you people do the same?"

"Negative sir."

"Sir," Chief Tyrol spoke up, "Thank you…"

"Shut up, Chief," Narcho hastily replied, anger evident in his voice. "Lt. Thorne was a friend of mine. I'm just maintaining discipline on a military ship." The Captain looked back at Corporal Malicai. "You're lucky. Someone could have been hurt, and I don't mean the Sergeant. He's CSF, Malicai, I read his file. Special Forces guys can rip you into pieces. If it were up to me, I'd let him tear you a new one right now."

"As it is," Narcho continued, "it _ain't_ up to me. I'm sure The Admiral will approve of whatever Commander Adama thinks up. Sergeant Ischoron, escort this man to the Brig. And if he should happen to slip on a bar of soap, maybe bruise his head a little, don't worry about it."

After Narcho finished, John wrote a message on the back of the small note he'd received earlier. He handed it to Roslin, who had been watching the entire affair in growing concern. Then he roughly grabbed Malicai by the shoulder and led him out of the hangar.

Again the hidden meaning wasn't lost on John. Narcho had just given him tacit permission to rough the Corporal up if no one was looking. He was doubly convinced he'd made the right decision. _These guys are just a step up above animals. Even during the worst of the Covenant war our men never ever acted this poorly_.

He'd drop off Malicai and change into his MJOLNIR armor as soon as possible. On the note he'd written "The answer is yes."

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPK

The Raptor's large door opened to a less than welcome reception. John saw a woman, a Captain with raven black hair, standing in front of 4 armed Marines, none of whom were particularly friendly. In fact, from the expressions on all the _Pegasus_ personnel, they were borderline hostile, just waiting for a reason to attack the alien in their midst.

"Well, at least there's no Get Out! sign," Cortana wryly added. John had brought her up to speed as quickly as he could. The AI hadn't said as much, but John could tell by her lack of comment on the scheme that she either believed what they were planning was a bad idea, or that she didn't think she could pull it off without any problems.

_Maybe it's both. If that's the case, then she's really damaged. This could get bad in one helluva hurry_. _I'd better forego the usual "permission to come aboard" routine to keep up the act_.

"Sir," the woman in front addressed him, "my name is Captain Kendra Shaw. I am to escort you to the Admiral's office where she will meet with you."

_Australian accent. Is there any English dialect the Colonials don't reproduce? _"Captain, are you also here to show me around the ship?"

"The Admiral left no instructions to that effect, Master Chief."

_Ah, so she's been briefed on my rank_._ Let's see how far I can push_. "Lt. Shaw, I am, in effect, a visiting dignitary from a foreign power. It is customary among my people to give such officials tours of any vessels they visit. Could you possibly provide one before my meeting with Admiral Cain?"

"I have been given no orders to that effect, sir. I am simply to escort you to the Admiral's office upon arrival. No mention was made of any tour, therefore none will be given."

"Looks like _Pegasus_ doesn't believe in the concept of a 'Welcome Mat.'" Cortana added.

"Very well then, Captain. Could you at least point out interesting features on the ship as we proceed?"

"Affirmative, Master Chief. This way please." Shaw gestured with her hand for the Chief to follow her down a corridor. The Marine escort fell in behind John. "I doubt I need to point out this is a hangar," the woman said without smiling, opening an exit door to another corridor.

The Captain pointed out various features of the ship as the group proceeded. A Marine Barracks here, the Pilots' Briefing room, an example of CO2 scrubbers which kept the ships atmosphere breathable. It wasn't long before Cortana piped in with some questions, which John dutifully asked Shaw as they marched along.

"It appears you have the same amount of crew as _Galactica_ but the ship is nearly double the size. Why?"

"Automation, Master Chief. We've got several computer systems and automated maintenance workin' round the clock."

"Networked computers? I was told by _Galactica's _crew that is a vulnerability to Cylon infiltration."

"It was. I took the network offline after the attack."

"That could be problematic John," Cortana added. "Now we need to find a specific terminal to access the _Pegasus_ archives."

"Any guesses?" the Chief whispered.

"CIC."

"Captain, you are not a pilot, are you?"

"Negative, Master Chief. I'm a computer specialist. I was assigned to _Pegasus_ just before the attack."

"This must have been a notable ship in the fleet."

"Mercury class, sir. Top of the line. Officers would kill to get a posting like this out of the Academy. Or at least they would have." The last was added bitterly.

_There's another difference. Galactica's crew doesn't talk about the past much these days. The Pegasus crew is still raw_, _still hurting. The Admiral's the same way. Push a little bit and every one of these people could explode. _

They were passing a room with several panels and readouts. Shaw motioned to her right as they passed. "Over there is CIC."

"It's quite small."

"Compared to _Galactica _it is… I take it Commander Adama allowed you inside?"

"Yes, he did. It was a most interesting experience. Most naval vessels of my people are commanded from a Bridge."

"What's a Bridge?"

"Something like CIC, but positioned forward of the ship so the Helmsman can see what direction the vessel heads. You would need far more effective sensors than your DRADIS for a Bridge to be functional on a ship such as this. Better computer systems would be required as well."

A heavyset man behind one of CIC's screens noticed them walking by. Eyes wide, he came around the screen and returned the salute Shaw gave him. "Master Chief, this is Colonel Jack Fisk, Executive Officer of the _Pegasus_."

"I ah, heard you were uh, coming aboard." Fisk stated, shifting uncomfortably as he looked up at John's titanic form.

"I have learned from other humans that it is customary to shake hands upon greeting." The Chief proffered his hand as he spoke. Hesistantly, Fisk took it, shaking it firmly.

"Nice grip," the portly XO replied. _At least he's friendlier than Cain_.

"Ah, Colonel, I was wondering if you would allow me a few minutes to look at the _Pegasus_ CIC. Commander Adama has already showed me _Galactica's_ and I would like to perform a comparison."

Shaw interrupted. "The Admiral wanted me to escort him straight to her office."

Fisk thought it over for a bit. "Captain, I'm sure we could spare a few minutes."

"Admiral Cain won't like it if he's late."

"Well," Fisk answered, grinning a little, "she won't shoot me over just that."

Shaw pursed her lips. "Probably not."

_That's interesting. Fisk is grinning a little nervously, and Shaw's response…oh no. Colonel Tigh's rumor could be true_.

John hoped that wasn't the case as he was guided into CIC. Fisk made the usual introductions, pointing out the Helmsman, the DRADIS operator, and other personnel. Finally, Fisk introduced Ensign Hoshi, the Communications and Archives officer.

"Chief," Cortana piped, "that's the station I need to access. It'll have Cain's records."

"Done. Ready to get yanked?" He whispered. He turned to the Ensign. "Mr. Hoshi, I take it you have a similar job as Lt. Gaeta on _Galactica_?"

"Sir?"

"He's the Communications officer aboard _Galactica_, but his station is substantially different in appearance and organization from your's," the SPARTAN continued, surreptitiously removing Cortana's disk from the back of his helmet.

"Ah…how so?"

"It appears you're monitor displays different sets of data, in fact it looks much like a touch-screen setup on one of our vessels." He palmed the disk in his left hand as he spoke.

"Uh, touch-screen, sir?" The other _Pegasus _personnel around him cocked their heads in confusion and looked at the Master Chief.

"It's a common computer setup for onboard stations. If I were to touch this menu item here," the Chief pointed with his right hand at the monitor, secretly holding Cortana's disk to an interface at Hoshi's console as the _Pegasus_ crewmembers looked at the display, "the menu would be accessed this way, instead of through the keyboard there."

"Uh, how does that work?" Fisk asked.

"Heat and pressure sensors on the monitor. It is ultimately simple enough to program." John counted to 10 as he spoke, giving Cortana plenty of time to transfer across the interface. He kept the disk in his left hand for the moment.

The conversation in CIC went on for a few more minutes before Shaw urged John back toward the Admiral's office. He'd have to figure out a way to return to CIC to retrieve Cortana, hopefully she would have ample time to retrieve Cain's files.

The Admiral's office was connected by another corridor to CIC. The Chief found the Admiral waiting within, standing behind a table looking over reports. She dismissed Shaw without looking up, keeping the Chief waiting for a few seconds. John used the time to scan the room. There were a series of tables arrayed around, a few bookcases, but strangely no chairs for guests, or the Admiral, to sit in.

_That's to throw anyone off their game. Cain is familiar with this, she likes this. Anyone else would be a little disconcerted by it._

_Anyone but me, that is_.

"What do you think of the _Pegasus, _Master Chief?"

_An informal question to lead off. Odd_. "The ship is somewhat large, Admiral."

"Somewhat?"

"We have several classes larger than this among my people."

"I'm sure," Cain said, still not looking up. "You didn't answer my question. Size isn't an evaluation. Any idiot can see the ship's size."

_She's treating me like a subordinate. I'll have to disabuse her of that notion_.

"If you're referring to the combat capabilities of your ship, Admiral, I cannot judge, as I have not even seen _Galactica_ perform in a naval engagement. As for her crew, again, I have only limited experience with humans, although your crewmen seem to have a harder edge than _Galactica's_. As for your technological status, from what little I've seen…"

"Drop the act."

"Excuse me?"

Now the Admiral looked at him, her eyes as cold as ice. "I know an affectation when I see one. I've been given Adama's publicly available dossier on you, and I've seen the way you move in this…armor. You're no intellectual. You're a soldier."

_Let the games begin_. "Fine," John replied, returning his voice to his normal gruff tone.

"What are you?"

"It's all there in the dossier, Admiral. I don't feel the need to repeat it."

"A super soldier?"

"Correct."

"A Cylon."

"Admiral, if I was a Cylon, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

She smiled slightly at that, but it wasn't in amusement. It was the smile of a predator who had found an equal match. "You're an alien who happens to appear at _just_ the right moment to save some of _Galactica's_ pilots. You're a plant."

"If I was a plant, I had ample opportunity to kill the Colonial Fleet's leadership before you even arrived." He paused. "But you already knew that. If you thought I was a Cylon, you'd have tried to arrest me beforehand."

"Arrest?" She paused, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "I would have had you airlocked. Two Cylon prisoners are enough."

_Two? There's another one?_ _Ah. She's pushing my buttons_.

He paused before he responded. "I've seen how you treat your prisoners. Thorne might have wanted to try something else with me."

He was intentionally pushing Cain back, trying to get a reaction. The Admiral was used to being in the driver's seat, being the dominant force in every conversation. He was rewarded with a flash of anger in the woman's eyes, it was small, but it was there. He continued speaking regardless. "Of course, I'm sure he was just following orders. I doubt anybody on this ship would disobey them after you shot your XO."

Again a flash of rage, this time accompanied by a gripping of the table edge. Cain kept a look of controlled anger on her face. "Who told you _that_?" she asked, her voice rasping.

"It's something that's been making the rounds. And I already know from your expression that it's true. No surprise, no outrage, just anger that a secret's been revealed."

This time the anger was in full force. But instead of lashing out, Cain gripped the edge of the table in front of her and stared, her eyes returning to the ice which greeted him when he walked in. She paused, a good five seconds passing before her reply. "You are intentionally trying to provoke me with your…_insubordinate_…tone."

_Oh boy. She's a lot more dangerous than I thought. I just hit her with my best shot. Woulda sent Captain Keyes into a rage, and she just blinked, paused, and got a hold of herself._

"You pushed me. I pushed back." Now it was the Chief's turn to pause. "Why'd you want me here? This isn't an interview."

"I want to see what I'm dealing with. You're a…_guest_ …in my Fleet."

"_Your_ Fleet? I think the President and the civilian captains will have a few words to say on that."

Again a dangerous glint showed in the Admiral's eye. "In times of extreme emergency, Military Commanders have the right to exercise dictatorial power. Article 5 of the Articles of Colonization. I also have the right to…"

"Admiral, drop the act," John said, intentionally interrupting.

Cain gritted her teeth. "I am a Flag Officer in command of a Fleet, and I will _not_ tolerate such behavior, even from an alien soldier. Enough is enough. Do _not _do that again." John said nothing in reply. "I've got the biggest ships and the biggest guns in a Fleet at war. That puts me in charge of everything, including you."

John said nothing, letting the Admiral continue. "I don't know what you are, and I don't know what you want. I've got a war to fight against a ruthless enemy hunting us to extinction. And I don't care how many men it takes, how many people you kill. If you give me a single reason to think for even _a moment_ that you're a danger to my command, I'll have you airlocked without batting an eyelash. Are we clear?"

"Not entirely Admiral. Like the dossier tells you, I'm a SPARTAN-II super soldier. I can be your greatest friend, and I can complete missions that a hundred of your Marines couldn't accomplish. I'll even volunteer to do them. Or I could be your _worst_ enemy if you piss me off. Don't push me, and I won't push you."

Suddenly the intercom buzzed. Cain picked up the handset, and spoke a few words into it, her gaze hardening to fury as she listened to the other end of the line. She slammed the set down onto the receiver and glared at the Chief. "MARINES!" She bellowed. The Chief's escort barreled into the room. "Put this thing under guard!" the Admiral yelled, and the soldiers all leveled their rifles at John.

"You won't push me, huh?" She glared upward at John as she approached, then looked at the Corporal commanding the guards. "Bring him along. He twitches in the wrong direction, shoot him."

John was prodded in the back by a rifle as the Admiral stalked down the corridor leading to CIC. He knew he could take the guards easily, as Cain clearly had no idea how strong he was. If the Admiral did, it wouldn't be 4 Marines surrounding him, it would be 40. That's not what worried him. There was only one reason why.

_I hope Cortana at least retrieved the data before she was discovered. Dammit she should be a lot better at this. She should have been in and out without leaving even a trace. She was DESIGNED for this, in addition to her other skills_.

The anger rapidly gave way to fear. Yes, Cortana had been discovered, which meant that she was indeed severely damaged. If this was so, there was no telling what the Colonials would be able to do to her. They could even kill her. John couldn't allow that.

Most of the senior staff was clustered around Ensign Hoshi's console. Shaw was seated there, rapidly typing on the keyboard, doing what John couldn't say, but he guessed Shaw was trying to isolate or delete Cortana.

"The construct keeps moving through the archive data, sir," Shaw reported. "Never seen anything like it. If it hadn't tripped the security protocol around your records, Admiral, I never would have spotted it."

Cain wheeled on the Chief. "What the frack did you want with my computers?" John remained silent. "Corporal, your weapon!" Cain demanded, receiving the Marine guard's pistol in an outstretched hand. She smacked the SPARTAN with the butt of the pistol. "Answer me!" Again the Chief remained silent.

Cain cocked the pistol for emphasis. "Captain Shaw, how long until you isolate the AI?"

"Uh, 5 to 7 minutes sir."

"Can you purge the archive data?"

"Yes, sir, but we would lose all of our…"

"Would it kill the construct?"

"It's a good chance sir but…what the hell?"

An image suddenly flashed upon Hoshi's screen. All it said was "Oo-rah!"

"What the hell does that mean?" Fisk asked.

John knew, and so John reacted.

There was a Marine close to both his sides, and one behind him with a rifle digging into his back. The fourth guard was behind him somewhere, and he was going to be a problem.

In a blur, with both hands the Chief grabbed both Cain's pistol and the weapon stuck in his back, then swung the items in an arc, striking the Marines on either side in the head. Both crumpled to the deck, unconscious. He dropped the pistol, then with his free hand grabbed the Marine behind him and flung the man through the air, sending him crashing into the 4th guard. A shot fired as one of the CIC crew drew a pistol on him. Quickly, he grabbed Cain, who was bending down to retrieve the pistol as she fell backward. Gripping her with his free hand, he held the woman close to his chest, aiming the rifle at her head. The _Pegasus _crew around him froze.

"Drop your weapons." The Chief commanded. A few clatters told him that some crew had complied. "Everyone stay perfectly still."

"Alert the sh-" Cain started. John clamped his free hand over her mouth. "Shut up, Admiral. I see anyone make a move, and I get nasty. Clear the archive station."

Slowly, he moved towards Hoshi's console as the crew cleared away. No one moved, the room was still. Quickly he ejected the data storage disk from the back of his helmet and held it close to the interface on the console. He counted to 10 seconds before looking at the disk, noticing the familiar blue of Cortana now filling the empty space.

"If you think I'm letting you off the ship with whatever it is you're after..."

"I said shut it, Admiral. I don't need your help to get out." The SPARTAN pushed the disk back into his helmet, and waited a couple of seconds.

"John, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault," Cortana chimed in.

"Never mind that, just figure me a way out of this," the Chief whispered

"Working…"

A few more seconds went by "Dammit Cortana you have to work faster than that!"

"I _can't_ Chief! I told you, I'm damaged!" The tone at the end was near hysterical. Cortana was on the edge of breaking down.

"Alright," he said aloud. Slowly he backed towards the exit to CIC.

"You stupid sonovabitch. You really think you're going to drag me all over the ship?" Cain growled.

"No," was all the SPARTAN said. Then he shoved Cain forward and shot the fire alarm box near the entrance. The fire suppression system was activated, spewing some kind of gas into CIC and causing fire doors to the area to close. Quickly John dove under a falling bulkhead, which sealed shut behind him. Alarm klaxons blared in the corridor.

"Cortana, give me a route back to the Hangar," he commanded.

"Got it. Proceed straight, 100 meters, then turn left. Assuming the fire control overrides are similar to _Galactica's_, you got 30 seconds to 1 minute before Cain sends an alarm out to all ship's personnel."

The Chief didn't reply, he just pounded down the corridor at a dead run. Just over 10 seconds had passed before he arrived at the junction. Crewmembers, wide eyed at seeing the green hulk moving so quickly among them, simply fell back out of his way. He rounded the turn, receiving the next set of instructions from his AI companion, and continued bounding down the corridor.

"You're two thirds of the way there, Chief. Maybe 10 more seconds until…"

The PA system suddenly blared with Cain's voice. "Attention _Pegasus _personnel. The alien know as the Master Chief is loose on the ship and has assaulted the command staff in CIC. He is carrying top secret information. Your orders are shoot to kill."

_DAMN!_

He had rounded another corner when the announcement came, and the hangar door was in sight. Unfortunately, a half squad of Marines was guarding the entrance, as he expected. These soldiers spotted him and opened fire, as ordered. His shields flared as he was struck a few times, and he ducked back around the bend, firing 2 shots over the Marines' heads to keep them back.

"Cortana, can I get past those men without killing them?"

"Uhhh, no Chief. Extremely unlikely. That's the nearest entrance to the Hangar, the others are just as heavily guarded."

He noticed a CO­2 scrubber apparatus nearby. "Can you get me to an area that's just inside the ship's hull?"

"Yes, why?"

He yanked a large pressurized container from the scrubber assembly. "I've got an idea."

"Okay, keep going down this corridor, 50 meters, then turn right. Enter the third room on your left, it should be adjacent to the ships hull."

Once more the SPARTAN took off at break neck speed, his armored bulk clanging on the deck plating. Shots rang out again, another Marine group had spotted him and his shields glowed as more bullets struck home. He turned, and fired another burst, driving the soldiers into cover, before returning to his original course.

He reached the room in 20 seconds, having to throw a few crewmen out of the way. Within was some kind of storage bay. Several deckhands were inside.

"Everybody out!" John shouted, firing his weapon once in the air for emphasis. The crewman cringed, one screamed in panic, but all hastily ran outside. The Chief locked the bulkhead door behind them, then quickly placed the scrubber canister on the far wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cortana asked. "We're trapped in here!"

"Hardly," John replied, raising his rifle and pointing it at the canister.

"You crazy…"

The SPARTAN never let the AI finish. He pulled the trigger on his weapon, igniting the canister. The explosion inward was brief, then quickly sucked outward as the compartment depressurized. He'd blown a hole clear through the hull into space, just big enough for him to squeeze through.

His magnetic boots activated, preventing him from being sucked out, but the force of decompression still made it difficult for him to remain upright. When the atmosphere was finally gone, he approached the whole and leapt outward, onto the exterior of the ship.

The Chief looked around, spotting Colonial One off in the distance with his helmet zoom. It was a long ways away, and he hoped the Fleet wouldn't jump. Seeing no alternative, he leapt off into space, hoping his thrusters could help guide him across the distance to the President's ship.

Hopefully, Cain would conclude he was sucked out into space in the decompression. Therefore, she would believe the "alien" was dead. It certainly got President Roslin off the hook, provided he could reach the rest of the Fleet in time.

The trip would take hours of floating through space, guiding his course with small thruster bursts. A lot of things could happen in space, and he was alone, unable to summon help from _Galactica_ as Cain would no doubt pick up the transmission.

He only had one thought as he floated aimlessly in space.

_Sometimes life just sucks_.


End file.
